


Just this once

by Beleriandings



Series: Just this once (everybody lives) [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Doctor Who season 4 adjacent, Everybody Lives, Exit Wounds Fix-it, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Redemption, Temporary Character Death, eventual Children of Earth fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 239,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: (Everybody lives.)(Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day.But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past.But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future.But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Lois Habiba/Esther Drummond, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Series: Just this once (everybody lives) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826248
Comments: 850
Kudos: 454





	1. Chapter 1

**_[27 A.D.]_ **

_Darkness._

Darkness so complete and whole and encompassing, that it was like he’d forgotten what light was. There was no time here; nothing to measure it by, except the deaths. The weight crushing down on his face, his lungs. Except here he was gasping at nothing, breathing in cold clay-heavy soil, speeding the next death on its way.

Not that Jack knew how much time had passed in between. He’d already lost count of how many times it had been, down here. It must have been less than a day though, surely. A few hours.

It was going to be a long two millennia.

He felt stinging tears come, immediately soaking into the earth against his face as he began to suffocate again, throat spasming horribly. He would have sobbed, if he could. Already it was all starting to feel like a distant memory; the sun against his face, the biting wind when he stood in a high place and looked down, the touch of a warm hand against his skin.

He wondered if this was what it felt like, really being dead. Just a nothingness, a slow fading as his body rotted into the cold clay, deep underground.

He felt the sensation of the weight crushing his rib cage lessen a little. That was okay, that was better; it must mean he was about to die again. That meant a few minutes of relief, at least.

Just as his awareness faded out, he thought he heard something; a human voice, distant and muffled but calling out urgently. Something sharp against his chest, something that was not the dull weight of earth.

And right before he slipped away, a light above his head.

But then it was gone, and all went dark once more.

_And then–_

–sheer concentrated _life_ , coming back into his body with the force of a speeding train; actually, Jack also knew what it felt like to get hit by a train, and it wasn’t really a good metaphor for it. At least the train part was over quickly, the blackness instant. Life coming back was much worse, his body shuddering and burning with it as sensation returned, air rushing back into his lungs as he gasped involuntarily.

Full awareness always came just a little later, giving him another familiar, unpleasant experience; there were always a few seconds just after, of lurching, spinning disorientation as his senses adjusted to the sheer overwhelming experience of being alive again, neural pathways sparking back into service like someone had tripped a fuse.

He jolted up, sucking in a great gulp of air, and heard a crunch and a yelp of pain – that he was fairly sure was not his own – as his head collided hard with something just above.

“Jack! Jack... it’s... it’s okay, you’re fine, it’s... oh, no, oh Ianto, see that’s why I said don’t sit too close to him when... here, Owen’ll look at that when we...” Jack recognised Gwen’s voice keeping up a nervous stream of chatter even before his eyes adjusted to the light again.

When they did, the delicate blue of a clear summer sky filled his field of vision.

And then there were faces, looming into view against the sky. One in particular, the closest. A dear and familiar face, smiling wider and happier than he thought he’d ever seen before, despite a bloody nose.

Jack raised a hand, almost too afraid to touch in case it shattered the illusion; because surely, _surely_ this couldn’t be real. “…Ia...nto?” his voice cracked halfway through, throat still full of earth. He touched Ianto’s face; it seemed to be solid. “Th-that you?”

“Yes, Sir. Of course Sir” said Ianto, cradling Jack in his arms, voice breaking a little on a laughing sob.

“Hey now. No need for that right now.”

That was all it took. “ _Jack_...it’s you. You were underground, and it’s bloody twenty-seven AD, and we _time-traveled_ , and it’s you, and...” he laughed, in slightly hysterical delight. “I think you broke my nose!”

“Your nose...” he frowned. This definitely _felt_ real; Ianto’s skin was warm, the blood sticky against his cheek as Ianto pulled him close. “Sorry.” Jack winced. “Reflexes.”

“Don’t I know it” said Ianto with a roll of his eyes, drawing back and wiping crimson off his face impatiently with the back of his hand. But for all that, he was still smiling. Smiling as though – for once in his life – he couldn’t hold it back. “Doesn’t matter. You’re back.”

“Um,” said another familiar voice, on his other side. John was leaning on one knee in badly-faked nonchalance, a shovel slung over one shoulder. “Hate to break up whatever _this_ is, but there’s other people want a turn–”

“Yeah, you? You’ll get yours later” said Gwen, in a tone that sounded as much like a threat as anything. Sure enough, John pouted but backed down. Jack felt Tosh come around to his other side, helping Ianto help him sit up. She looked pale and wan, clothes covered in a worrying amount of blood. She moved oddly too, gritting her teeth as though she was trying to hide how much everything hurt. But she was smiling too, picking up his other hand and giving it a squeeze.

“How long was I down there?” he asked blearily. The landscape looked the same, but it was hard to tell. “He said it would be millennia, but it couldn’t have been more than a few days...”

John made a sound that was closer to regretful than Jack had ever thought to hear from him. “It was only... uh...” he raised his wrist, frowning at the sight of a clean gauze bandage there.

“If his account is to be believed, it was only...” Ianto glared at John, looking down at his watch in the most passive-aggressive way that one could look at a watch, “about fifty-seven minutes.”

“Ah. Well. Glad you got me out of there when you did.” Jack frowned. “But...I don’t understand. How...”

He looked around. Gwen and Owen were kneeling in the dirt on either side of his legs, Owen peering at a small object in the palm of one hand, looking up for a moment to give Jack an awkward pat on the knee. Beside them the grass was marred by a great hole in the ground, all of them crouching and sitting amidst mounds of freshly-turned earth. Gwen tilted her head. “Jack.” She reached out, straightened his coat lapel, and dropped her voice. “There’s someone else here, and we just wanted to make sure you were prepared to see him again after...”

Jack’s eyes went wide, his hand involuntarily clutching at Ianto’s, his whole body going tense. _Gray. He was here, he was–_

“Oh, no need to make it sound all scary” said another familiar voice behind him. Jack sat up, back and shoulders going rigid in Ianto’s arms as he twisted around. _Surely, surely it couldn’t be_ …

“...Doctor” said Jack, in quiet disbelief. “You...came back for me?”

“I did, didn’t I?” said the Doctor, coming down to crouch at his feet. “Didn’t do much, really. Your friends here had most of it handled themselves. All I had to do was be designated driver.” He leaned in, pulled Jack into a big hug that caught Tosh and Ianto up in it too by sheer proximity. But as he held him, he whispered in Jack’s ear. “You know, I’ve had bad experiences with Torchwood before, but your lot? They’re alright.”

Jack smiled proudly. Despite himself, hope was blossoming in his chest. “Must be my influence.”

“Maybe it is.” The Doctor grinned, pleased with himself, and drew back and offered Jack a hand up, fingers wiggling. “Now, who wants a lift home?”

* * *

**_[8:26pm, 4 th April 2008]_ **

“Ianto.”

“Yeah?”

Tosh leaned against the arm he offered, face pale and teeth gritted in pain. “Let’s... let’s stop, just a moment.”

He darted a quick look out of the alley: in the harsh orange glow of the streetlamps he could see there were at least four weevils at the end of the street, but they seemed to be heading in the other direction. It was as safe as anywhere, probably. Still, he pulled Tosh closer under the cover of the eaves above them, out of the light. She gave him a grateful smile, tense and strained, as they both caught their breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Ianto kept his hand on his gun though, watching. Honestly, he was glad of a moment's rest too; his shoulder still hurt where Jack had popped the joint back into place, he was sure every other part of him was bruised, and he felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper, the dry plaster dust and crushed bricks clinging to the back of his throat.

“Sorry about this” whispered Tosh into the quiet. She indicated her broken arm. “It’s so stupid. I’m slowing us down.”

“ _Nope_. Stop that” said Ianto, trying for brisk cheerfulness and falling somewhat short even by his own estimation, “any of us could have been crushed in that blast. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.”

“Hoping to stay that way” muttered Tosh, but Ianto could hear the gratitude in her voice. “How’s the shoulder?”

He winced. “Not the best” he admitted, “but when we get back to the Hub we’ll see about getting us both some more of Owen’s painkillers. Yeah?”

“Sounds like a party” said Tosh, with a desperate little laugh. But it didn’t last long before they lapsed back into watchful silence. “We should go” said Tosh reluctantly, after a few minutes had passed.

Ianto nodded. “Stay there, I’ll just check–” he peered around the corner, only to be met with the feral snarl of a weevil, only a few metres away under the streetlight. Seeing him, it growled, launching itself into a loping run.

Ianto grabbed Tosh’s arm. “Run! Other way!” he heard her scream as her broken arm was jostled, feeling a twinge of guilt. But mostly he could just hear the blood beating in his ears, heart rate too fast. When he was younger, he had always taken a moment to lay his fingers on the pulse point at his wrist, calming himself with the reassurance that his pulse was regular, the beat still there, his own internal rhythm. Now he could hear it thundering in his head, almost as loud as the splitting crack of gunshots Tosh was firing over her shoulder at the weevils.

He pulled her along, running wildly through the streets; this was wrong, they were going in the wrong direction, but they didn’t have a choice. This way there were shadows, there were places you could hide. Ianto knew these streets inside out; he’d always been good at remembering things like that.

“Ianto! To your right!”

He whipped around fast enough to send a bolt of pain through his bruised muscles. But not before the weevil had grabbed his leg, digging in with clawed fingers and pulling him to the ground. He unloaded his gun into its neck, firing until it finally slumped to the ground and he could hear only empty clicking.

“You’re all out too?” Tosh asked, nervous, as Ianto pushed the weevil corpse off his leg with a groan, levering himself painfully to his feet. The lane they were in seemed to be deserted; this time it was her pulling him into the relative safety of the shadows, a little strip of pavement between some cigarette-burned wheelie bins and a dented blue Volkswagon with two wrinkled parking tickets.

“Yeah” he panted, leaning back against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut against the burn of tears, wishing Jack was here. Wishing he still had at least one bullet left, so he could put it through John Hart’s head. He leaned sideways against Tosh, the two of them putting their weight on their good sides against each other as they caught their breath. “Still, nothing we can do about that” he said, forcing himself to focus, trying to tamp down the steadily rising panic. “Is Jack’s comm link still down?”

Tosh nodded. “I can’t get through to him. It’s weird. It’s like he just completely vanished off the network.”

“Right.” He gritted his teeth, fidgeting with the buttons on his sleeve. “Well.”

“... _Ianto_.” He turned at her sudden change in tone, feeling a gentle touch against his arm. “Jack will be fine. You know that, don’t you?”

“...I know.” Physically, at least; that was the only certainty they had at this point. “Just...” He tried to bite back the words but they came anyway. “Tosh... what if we can’t do this alone?”

“Stop it. We’ll find a way to–”

But he interrupted her, carrying on relentlessly. “Gwen’s good at this, but even she’s in over her head, trying to hold this whole city together. Owen doesn’t know how a nuclear power plant works, not really–”

“I can talk him through it when he gets there.”

“Maybe, if we don’t get ripped apart by weevils first!” he felt a little dizzy, reckless, and wondered vaguely if he was suffering the belated effects of concussion. “And Jack...he’s just _gone_. Again.” He swallowed a sob, remembering the last time. This was so much worse. But it had given him an idea, starting at the back of his mind a while ago and working its way forward as they ran short of other options. “I was thinking...”

“What?”

“There’s other people, people who would help if it was Jack in danger.” _Hopefully_.

Tosh squinted at him. “You mean Martha?” She bit her lip, a small frown line appearing on her forehead. “Last I heard she was in London, but I suppose she could call in UNIT to help us in the meantime...”

“That wasn’t what I meant” said Ianto, dropping his voice.

“What, then?”

“...It doesn’t matter.”

“...Okay. If you think of something else, tell me.” She brightened suddenly. “Can you hold my gun? It’s empty, but you can maybe use it to hit a weevil on the head with.”

“What are you going to do?”

She pointed, a little of the smile coming back to her face. “I’m going to hot-wire that car. Won’t be a minute.”

“Oh. Well, be my guest.”

Ten minutes later, Ianto was driving the stolen Volkswagon, with Tosh in the passenger seat cradling her broken arm and her Rift monitor in her lap.

“Nearly home” said Ianto, swerving to avoid a couple of weevils that lunged at the window of the car from behind a postbox.

“...Ianto.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“What were you going to say before?”

“What?”

“That idea you had. You said it didn’t matter, but you’ve got good intuition for these things. Your plans usually work, in the end.”

“...Alright then.” He hesitated, going around a roundabout and onto another street, lights flashing past above. “Tosh, how much do you know about the Doctor?”

He caught a glimpse of her raised eyebrow in the mirror. “Well, I’ve read the Torchwood foundation charter of course… and I actually met him, once. I think.”

This caught him a little off guard. “...Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I met him. Only for a few minutes, and I only made the connection later, but Ianto, he was so...” she shook her head, as though words eluded her. “And of course, Jack mentions him sometimes. But I never found out much... I always got the impression the Doctor was more Torchwood London’s department.”

“He was” said Ianto, gritting his teeth against the memory. “We had quite a lot on him, near the end.”

“And what? You want to...”

“To bring him in, yes.”

“You really think he’d come and help? For Jack?”

Ianto frowned; that was the most tenuous part of all this. “Worth a try, isn’t it?” He’d never met the Doctor himself, didn’t particularly want to, but by the way Jack had looked the handful of times he had mentioned him after his return, the way his voice had sounded…Ianto had told himself at the time that it hadn’t made something in his chest twist painfully, and been relieved when the subject had changed. Now he wished he’d asked more questions. Either way, it was painfully clear Jack loved the Doctor, or maybe he once had. Something had happened while he’d been away, something that Ianto hadn’t wanted to try to ask Jack about. Something that obviously hurt.

It was obvious that Jack would do anything for the Doctor. It was just that Ianto didn’t know whether the Doctor would return the favour.

And there was another thing: if there was one thing Ianto did know about the Doctor, it was that wherever he went he always left destruction in his wake. All the Torchwood case files he had read agreed on that point.

“...Maybe” said Tosh, breaking into his reverie. She was staring down at her lap, and Ianto could practically see all the clever gears of her mind start turning. “How would we actually contact the Doctor though? Is he even on Earth at all? Radio wouldn’t be fast enough unless he’s at least within our solar system, and that’s already assuming that he’s even in the same time as us.”

“No idea” admitted Ianto. “That is a problem.”

“Also, even if we were able to somehow send out a signal across the fabric of time and space, every hostile alien in the universe would notice it too. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

He sighed. “Bloody aliens.”

She reached over and gently patted his arm. “Don’t worry” she said quietly. “It was a good plan. We’ll... we’ll just have to figure something else out.” She didn’t sound quite as convincing as she had probably hoped to, but Ianto appreciated the effort.

But before he could reply, Tosh’s phone started ringing. Wincing as her broken arm shifted, and after nearly dropping it to the floor, she answered. “...Hello?”

Ianto watched in the mirror as her face changed to amazement.

“Oh! Hi!” said Tosh. “How’s things?”

“Well? who is it?” asked Ianto, unable to hold back his curiosity.

“It’s Martha!” hissed Tosh.

“Martha? Why’s she calling?”

“I don’t know! You interrupted before I got the chance to ask!”

“Put her on speaker phone!”

“I’m going to put you on speaker phone, hang on” said Tosh. “Ianto’s driving.”

“Hi Ianto!” he heard Martha’s voice say, a moment later. “Not the best of circumstances, but I hope you’ve been well...”

“This isn’t a social call then, I’m assuming.”

“No. Much as I’d like to just call to say hello, I saw the news... multiple bombings in Cardiff. They’re saying it’s terrorists, but I did wonder if Torchwood knew better... something alien?”

“Not alien, but it’s not terrorists either” said Tosh. “Or. Well. If you’d call Jack’s crazy ex a terrorist...”

“Oh, god, okay… but then, where _is_ Jack?” asked Martha. “I tried phoning him too but I couldn’t get through.”

“That’s another problem” said Tosh, tense again. “We don’t know _where_ he is.”

“Jack’s gone?”

“So it would seem” said Ianto, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“And the situation in the city” said Martha. “Is it under control?”

“Right now? No” said Tosh. “I won’t lie to you Martha, it’s bad. There are weevils loose in the streets. Gwen’s trying to keep everything under control, but there are power outages all over the city. Owen’s on his way to try to stop Turnmill nuclear power plant going into meltdown, and Jack’s been kidnapped...”

They heard an in-drawn breath on the other end of the line. “Listen, I can get there in just over an hour if I leave now, let me just grab a UNIT helicopter...”

“I don’t know if we have that long” said Ianto grimly. “Not that we don’t appreciate the offer...”

A moment’s silence on the end of the phone. “There’s something else” said Martha. “I’ve got this phone number, you see. And I said I wouldn’t ever phone it, not unless something _really_ bad happened, but... this...”

Tosh and Ianto exchanged a glance. “What? Who is it?”

“Alright, so. Did... did Jack ever tell you how he and I met?”

“Not in anything more than vague and cryptic terms, no.”

“Which is pretty normal for him, but still.”

“Right. Right, well. Okay.” They heard Martha draw in a breath. “Well, there’s this man, you see. He’s called the Doctor.”

* * *

_**[Turnmill nuclear power station]** _

Owen leaned against the wall, head in his hands. He couldn’t hear Tosh’s voice anymore; maybe the elevated radiation levels in here were affecting the comms, he thought vaguely. Suddenly he felt very, very alone, the distant sirens and the red light of the control room in lockdown drilling into his senses. There was a weird kind of whirring and whistling sound coming from behind him. Maybe it was affecting him, too; he wasn’t aware that radiation could damage hearing, but then he had never been to a lecture in medical school on the effects of radiation on dead people who just happened to be up and walking around in nuclear power plant control rooms.

And then he heard a voice just behind him.

“Um, hello” said the voice. “I seem to have got a bit lost. Wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Torchwood, would you?”

Owen whirled around, drawing his gun in a single motion. He blinked, as he came face to face with a messy-haired stranger in a pinstriped suit, standing in front of a blue wooden box that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now, stop that!” protested the man, hands going up in the air. “No need to get all... shooty. I just asked for directions.” He frowned. “I was supposed to be on my way to Torchwood, but I’m afraid I’ve gone a bit off course.” He looked around contemplatively, patting the side of the blue box. “Hmm. The temporal alteration potential of a nuclear accident the size of Chernobyl in south Wales...the possibility of changing history that much...must’ve scrambled the Tardis’s navigation circuit.” He grinned at Owen in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring but was distinctly not. “Don’t worry though. I’m sure this’ll all turn out just fine.”

“How did you get in here?” demanded Owen, not lowering his gun. “Who are you? And why d'you want Torchwood?”

“So you _do_ know about Torchwood” said the man. “Perfect. I’m the Doctor.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a doctor too. You’re not special.” But he frowned; something tickled at the back of his memory, from right at the beginning when he had only just started working for Torchwood. Some documentation that he had been supposed to read but had only skimmed. He pushed it aside for now. It probably wasn’t important.

“Oh?” The Doctor extended a hand for Owen to shake, patting him cheerfully on the cheek when Owen didn’t move or put down the gun. “Huh” he said, as his hand made contact with Owen's skin. “Now, _that’s_ interesting.”

“What?”

“Cold. Cold as a corpse! Uh, no offense. Bu-ut, unless I’m very much mistaken, and I almost never am...” the Doctor took out a strange metal device that whirred and lit up blue, running it up and down in front of Owen’s body. “You’re not technically alive.”

“Well spotted” said Owen, rolling his eyes. “Look, will you just leave me alone? I have a nuclear power plant to save from going into meltdown.”

The Doctor shrugged.“You’re the one pointing the gun at me. If you stopped that I could, hmm, _m_ _a_ _ybe_ help with the whole _saving the nuclear power plant_ thing. I am a genius after all.”

Slowly, Owen lowered the gun. “Yeah, no thanks, mate. I’ve already got one of those on call. Geniuses, I mean.” Keeping an eye on the Doctor, he prodded his earpiece, trying to get the signal back. “Tosh. Tosh, can you hear me? Tosh!”

Suddenly the lights came on again, powering the console with a flicker of LED displays.

“Owen? Owen! Yes, yes I’m here. I’m here with you. You’ve got power, at least.”

“Tosh listen, there’s this man here... don’t know how the hell he got in, but he’s calling himself a doctor–”

“Owen! That’s – _h_ _hh!_ ”

“...Tosh?” he gasped. He had heard her muffled in-drawn breath, sharp and pained. “Tosh!”

The line was silent for a moment.

Then–

“Here. I’m here.”

“...Are you hurt?”

“No... I’m fine. Just my arm. I’m sorting out another painkiller.”

“...Good.” But there was something about her tone, the quickness of her breathing, that didn’t sound right. He heard her gasp in pain and was about to say something when she interrupted him.

“Okay…”

“Come on, let’s do this together.”

“Right. Okay.” A moment’s silence. “Oh god. Owen.”

“What’s the matter?”

“There’s no way to stop the meltdown. Too far gone.”

“Okay, okay, that is not good, is it. Come on Tosh, there’s gotta be something, there’s always something, _come on–_ ”

“The only option now is to vent the flow channels internally.”

“Vent them where?”

“The area you’re in. There’s the containment building–”

But then there was a shower of sparks from the opposite wall, where the Doctor had been prodding at the console.

Immediately the lights went red once more, the door at the other end of the room sliding shut.

“Oops, sorry” said the Doctor. “Power surge. The good news is, there’s no need to manually seal the doors before the fuel vents into this area anymore. Which is, I assume, what you were going to do, so I took the liberty of doing it for you.” He spun the blue-glowing device between his fingers. “Much quicker.” Owen blinked a few times; his world just now had narrowed to only him and the console in front of him and Tosh’s voice on the comms, and he had almost forgotten anyone else was there at all. Now though, the Doctor was bounding over.

“No, no no no no!” yelled Owen, ignoring him and running across the room, punching the door in frustration. He felt the knuckle bones of his fingers shatter with a horrible crunching sound, but he was too furious to care. He rounded on the Doctor. “What’ve you done? _What the fuck have you done_?”

The Doctor raised a single eyebrow at him. Then, to Owen’s surprise, gave him a big, happy grin. “Doctor Owen Harper” he said. “You know what? No one’s going to die today. At least not from now on.”

Dimly, the thought crossed Owen’s mind that he hadn’t told this man his full name. But it barely registered in comparison with the urge to punch him in the face. “What are you _talking about_?” he snarled. “You’ve locked us in here!”

The Doctor patted the side of the blue box, with another infuriatingly pleased smile. “Don’t worry!” Owen rolled his eyes, yelling in protest as the Doctor plucked the headset from his ear, talking into it himself. “Now _that_ ” the Doctor said down the line, “that plan? Genius. You’re _good_ , you are. Martha was right. Well, she usually is, but still.”

Owen blinked a couple of times, caught off guard. “Hold up. You know Martha?”

The Doctor ignored him, continued talking to Tosh. “And you know what? I meant what I said. There aren’t going to be any more deaths today, heroic or otherwise. So hang on, Toshiko Sato. You hear me? Because I’m bringing you a doctor, right now.”

“Wait” said Owen. “What?”

“No time to explain!” yelled the Doctor, as the sirens began to wail, warning lights flashing on the console. He grinned maniacally, and grabbed Owen’s wrist. “I think the expression is, _this place is gonna blow!_ ”

With that he opened the door of the blue box, and before he could protest, dragged Owen inside.

As soon as the door closed behind him Owen gasped, disorientated. “It’s... it’s...”

“Bigger on the inside?”

“...Yeah.” his mind was spinning, trying to parse what was going on. Spatially, and in general. He leaned against the railing, watching the Doctor run up to the strange console in the centre, pulling levers and pushing buttons, and – bizarrely – hitting something with a hammer. “Is this a Rift manipulator?” he asked. It had something of the one in the Hub about it, and he remembered all too well how that had gone the last time they had used it. “Because I can tell you, it won’t help–”

“Better” said the Doctor. “I’m taking you home, Owen. Tosh needs you.”

“Oh yeah,” he tried to deflect the dire implication of this statement with another question he had. “How the fuck d’you know all our names?”

“Well, I owe a favour or two to Martha Jones...”

“Martha did send you, then?”

“Hmm... something like that. She did tell me about…” he gestured vaguely, “all this. She also told me that one Captain Jack Harkness might be in danger, and we can’t have that.” His mouth turned down just a little bit at the corners, voice dropping. “Between you and me, Jack’s suffered a lot for my sake in the past. Saving him and his people is the least I can do. It took Martha to remind me of that, but she’s right.”

“Well, she usually is” said Owen. He frowned though; all of this raised more questions than it answered. But so did practically everything that came out of this man’s mouth it seemed. “But how–”

But the Doctor interrupted him, springing away towards the console. “Aha! We’re here! Now, I locked the navigation system onto the signal from your earpiece, so we _should_ be right where we need to be. I also tried to cut as much time off without returning before we left, to prevent unnecessary causal weirdness you know, so–”

“Just let me out so I can get to Tosh” said Owen, voice cracking a little. The more he thought about it, the more the way she had talked before filled him with fear. There was definitely something else, something she had been keeping from him. “ _Please._ ”

“Right” said the Doctor. The door swung open in front of Owen. “There you go then.”

Owen barely heard him; he was already out, feeling another moment of sickening disorientation as he found himself in the Hub, beside Tosh’s desk.

There was no one there. But he could tell something was badly wrong.

There was blood on the floor, was the thing. He could see splashes of it everywhere. “Where are you, Tosh?” he muttered. If he'd had a heartbeat, it would have been hammering in his ears right now. The blood stains on the floor followed a sort of trail, he could see. It was patchy and hard to discern – had there been a fight here? Was anybody dead? He pushed that possibility away, that wasn’t something he could handle right now – but the scarlet smears grew heavier as he reached the autopsy bay, dripping down the tiles as he followed the trail down the stairs.

And that was when he saw her. Her eyes half closed, slumped against the examination chair. Her stomach awash with blood.

She looked up when she saw him, bleary-eyed but still conscious. And for a moment he froze, caught in her gaze.

“O...Owen...”

That shook him out of his reverie. “ _Tosh!_ ” he ran the rest of the way down the stairs, kneeling beside her. “You idiot! You got _shot_! And you didn’t bloody tell me?”

“You’d have... worried” she managed, gasping in pain as he examined the wound. There was a lot of blood on the ground.

“Damn fucking right I would've!” He gritted his teeth. He was glad he didn’t have tears anymore; he didn’t want to waste his time crying. “C’mon darling, never mind that. I’m going to save you.”

“T-too late...” she lifted a hand to touch his face very gently, leaving a bloody smear. “It’s okay, Owen... it’s fine. We did it.”

“No!” he growled. “No! Hang on, Tosh...”

“Owen... I love you. You know that, don’t you? Owen...”

And before he could do anything else, she was leaning forward, kissing him desperately. He kissed her back – _because how could he do anything else?_ – and though he couldn’t feel as he once had when he was alive, he felt as though his heart were being torn from his chest as the blood on her mouth stained his own lips.

Pulling away from that kiss was the hardest thing he had done in a long time. He looked straight into her tear-filled eyes. “Well, I love you too” he half snapped, “so. Keep. Fighting. Understand, Tosh?”

She drew in a gasping breath. “Owen...”

“The Doctor said, he said no one else is dying today!” He pressed down on the wound, making her scream out in pain. That was okay; pressure. He had to put pressure on it. He had to stop the bleeding. Already he was slipping into the familiar mindset to keep himself from breaking apart. Whatever happened, he was still a doctor. He wasn’t going to lose her. Not like this. Not again, not now.

 _Apply pressure, stop the bleeding_. She had a piece of gauze pressed to the place but it was completely saturated, heavy with blood, and her grip was pitifully weak from the shock and blood loss. He held her hand down as he reached for another gauze.

“Anything I can do to help?” said a voice behind him, from the top of the stairs. “Hello, Toshiko. Not the best time, but I’m the Doctor.” When Owen looked up he was giving Tosh a little wave. “We talked on the phone.”

“H...hello” said Tosh, eyes unfocused. “Nice to meet you.”

“Also, we’ve met before, but I looked a bit different at the time.”

“Get me some more gauze” barked Owen, ignoring this exchange and gesturing to the side table. “And help me get her into the chair...”

“Right you are, Doctor Harper.”

The two of them lifted Tosh, Owen maintaining the pressure on the wound.

It took only a few minutes for Owen to stop the bleeding, clean the tear in her flesh and remove the bullet while she bit her lip with the pain. The Doctor offering her his hand to crush in a painful grip as Owen worked. It felt like hours, days. He had to keep touching Tosh’s hand, her face, trying to keep her conscious as he stitched the wound. He didn’t want to risk her slipping away into unconsciousness after she’d lost so much blood.

“Darling, stay with me. I’m going to get some of your blood we have in storage, I’m going to give you a transfusion... it’s going to be okay.” He looked to the Doctor. “Keep her talking, okay?”

“Of course.”

But as Owen turned away he heard Tosh cry out. “Look out! That’s him! That’s the man who–”

He whirled around, just in time to see another man appear on the stairs.

Tall and dressed in clothes the colour of dark sand, holding a gun in one hand and a long, serrated blade in the other, he was bearing down on Tosh and the Doctor.

Owen didn’t think; he launched himself forwards, throwing a punch that caught the man square in the jaw. He staggered, falling half across the rack of medical equipment. Owen grinned, triumphant; people wielding guns and knives usually don’t expect to get punched in the face, a fact that had worked to his advantage before and hopefully would again.

“Whoa, there!” said the Doctor, catching the man in his arms from behind. Casually, he plucked the gun from one of his hands, the knife from the other, and flung them on the floor with distaste. “Stop” he said to Owen, who was ready to throw another punch. He maintained eye contact. “See to your patient, Doctor Harper. I’ll take care of this one.”

It took a lot of restraint for Owen to step back. But in a moment, he did. 

Once he'd finished setting up Tosh’s transfusion and gone to wash his hands, he found the Doctor with their unconscious attacker laid out across his lap.

“That’s Gray” said Owen, frowning in sudden realisation. “I recognise him from the hologram. Jack said his name was Gray. His little brother.” Now that Gray’s face wasn’t twisted with fury he could see the family resemblance, a little. The Doctor all but ignored him; he had his hands on Gray’s temples and his head bowed, apparently concentrating deeply on something.

“Oh...” muttered the Doctor. “Oh... _ah_ , there’s something... oh. _Oh_. Poor child. What’ve they done to you?” Owen stared, perplexed, as he went back to stand at Tosh’s side and began checking the dressing again.

Tosh had raised her head and was looking over at the Doctor too. “What’s he doing, Owen?”

They both watched as the Doctor took his hands off Gray’s temples, took off his coat and folded it into a little bundle which he placed under Gray’s head on the cold tiled floor.

“God knows” said Owen, stroking Tosh’s hair. “Something useful, I hope. Now, is that better? Do you need another painkiller?”

She struggled to sit up. “...Ah… yes, please.”

He’d just finished administering the drug when he heard voices, coming closer. He tensed for a moment as three figures appeared at the top of the stairs; Gwen and Ianto, looking battered and weary but alive, standing like guards on either side of John Hart.

Owen picked up a scalpel, pointing it at John. “You better have a _damn_ good–”

“If you were going to say a damn good _explanation_ , well, I was coerced.” He spread his hands apologetically in front of him. “If you were going to say something else...”

“Shut it” snarled Owen, advancing on John. “Now, I’d advise you get out, before I–”

“No! Owen! Owen, it’s okay, he’s okay!” said Gwen, rounding the corner fully. “He says he knows where Jack is, he’s going to help us – oh my god, all this blood on the floor... oh _shit_... Tosh!”

Owen forced down the anger, making himself lower the scalpel as Tosh waved a weak hand in the air. “Hi, Gwen. Hi, Ianto. I’m okay. Owen’s been looking after me.”

Ianto came up to the railing, pointing down at the Doctor in the corner.

“Well. I see he did decide to turn up in the end.”

“...Uh” said Gwen, clearly noticing for the first time that there was someone else there. The Doctor waved cheerfully at her from where he stood watch over Gray in the corner. Gwen drew her gun, pointing it warily at him.

“Oh, not this again. It’s always the same with you people” said the Doctor, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands.

“He’s fine! It’s okay, he’s fine, he helped me save Tosh” said Owen hastily.

Ianto walked down the stairs, eyes not leaving the Doctor. “I suppose we should say thank you” he said slowly, a little warily. “I suppose we’re in your debt now.”

The Doctor tilted his head. “ _Nah!_ ” he said, waving a hand. “Don’t like stuff like that. Besides, it’s not over yet, is it? Don’t you want to get Jack back?”

Ianto’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Ianto Jones. Formerly of Torchwood London.”

“...Well. Martha didn’t mention that part.” The Doctor took his hand, shook it formally. “I’m the Doctor.”

“I’m aware.”

“Listen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I wasn’t to blame for what happened at Canary Wharf that day.”

Ianto’s eyes narrowed a little. But then he let out a breath, the tension ebbing from him. “I know” he said, sounding weary. The next time he looked up, there was a spark of hope in his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is, can you help us get Jack back?”

John's voice interrupted from the stairs. “At least you’re pretty, because it can’t be your massive intellect that Jack’s drawn to. I _told_ you. I _know_ where Jack is. Or at least, where he was about, oh, nineteen hundred and eighty-one years ago. To be fair, he wasn’t going anywhere quickly. If we can just trace the coordinates of the ring I dropped in his grave...”

“What?” Owen asked, certain he was missing something.

Everyone ignored him. “But we already tried that, and none of us could trace the coordinates” said Ianto, shooting a glare over his shoulder. “You’ve strung us along before–”

“I mean, yeah. It was easy. Also, fun. But if you’ll just _listen_ now–”

“–So pardon me while I explore other options.”

“Okay.” John shrugged, nonchalant. “You don’t have to be like _that_ about it.”

“Stop it, both of you” said Gwen sternly. She extended a hand. “Doctor, I’m Gwen Cooper. Welcome to Torchwood Cardiff.”

“Second in command, I presume?” he asked, shaking her hand.

“Hey! _I’m_ second in command!” snapped Owen.

“What he said” said Gwen. “But we’re grateful for your help. One more thing though: would you mind tracing this signal for us? Should be from a small transmitter. Now, long story short, it’s been buried with Jack for nearly two thousand years, so it’s possible the signal’s degraded in that time...”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got the exact date and place where it went into the ground? And Jack with it?”

“ _He_ has” said Ianto, gesturing rather savagely over his shoulder at John.

“And you can’t trace it in the present?”

“Apparently not.”

“Good thing I’ve got a time machine then, isn’t it?”

There was a moment’s silence as they all processed this.

“ _Well_ then. In that case,” said Gwen, clasping her hands together briskly, “who wants to go get Jack back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, I've recently got back into Torchwood for the first time since the show was originally airing, and certainly this is the first time I've been in the fandom....I know fix-it fics are ten a penny because canon is Like That™, so I don't know what the common tropes are or if this exact premise has been done to death.
> 
> BUT, I just had to have a go at writing one myself before I dive all the way in and start looking for other fics to read. The next chapter will deal with the aftermath of this, and then the story will eventually follow the team all the way to Children of Earth time period, and possibly beyond.
> 
> It'll be adjacent to canon, but without the character deaths because to me that's the least interesting way this show could have concluded these characters' arcs. Also trying to inject a bit of hopepunk in there because it's what I need in these times, plus fixing some other writing choices that I Don't Like in canon. Because what is this fandom about if not saying "I adore these characters and they deserve better and therefore I will now, in a literary, metaphorical sense, crash through a wall in a forklift I stole and kidnap them, then drop them into my own personal AU, because I'm bi and iconic and on the run from the government".  
> Anyway, on that note I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think, and/or join me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe! I'm also screaming about Torchwood there currently.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bloody weird, that place” said Gwen, relieved to step back out into the Hub. The spatial compression in the Tardis had been giving her a headache. “What do we do now?”

“Now, _you_ get as far away from here as possible” said Jack to John, sternness in his voice.

John stuck out his bottom lip, but sighed. “Yeah. Might be a good idea.”

“You’re just going to set him loose?” protested Ianto.

“Ah” came the Doctor’s voice. “That’s a thing.” He came over to stand by Jack and John, peering curiously between them, then at the strap now around John’s uninjured wrist. It had left a bloody stain against his skin. “Working vortex manipulator. Shouldn’t have that kind of technology in the twenty-first century. You could make a rather large mess. Hang on, let me just...”

“What are you doing?” yelped John, as Jack held him still. “Stop it. Don’t point that sonic... thingy at me.”

“ _Screwdriver_ ” said Jack and the Doctor, in perfect unison.

“Whatever.”

“I’d advise you to just go with it” said Jack.

“What – _ah!_ ”

There was a flash, and a spray of sparks, and John looked outraged. “You broke it!”

“I just disabled the teleportation and time travel functionalities. Everything else should work perfectly.”

“He does this to everyone” said Jack. “You’ll be fine.”

“ _Bullshit_! Now I’m stuck here on this dead-end planet! In the _twenty-first century_! That’s not even one of the fun ones.”

“You’re not stuck _here_ ” said Jack, patiently. “You can go anywhere on earth, in this time. That’s plenty.”

“Maybe for you, with your little Scooby-Doo gang and this weird damp basement sex-dungeon you try to pass off as a decent secret headquarters. I want more than that, Jack.”

“Well, you can’t have it” said the Doctor.

John glared at him, mutinously. “Who died and put you in charge of time and space?”

The Doctor glared back, stony-faced. “The Time Lords. As it happens.”

Gwen noticed Jack wince.

John, apparently, hadn’t. “Yeah, right” he said, still glaring. But a moment later, John burst out laughing, doubling over. “God, you people. Take yourselves and your duty to the world so _seriously_. Fuck’s sake, I’ll just go to Vegas or somewhere. That’s still here in this century, right? Tell me there’s still Vegas here, Jack.”

“On the other side of the world, yeah” said Jack.

“Excellent. Then I’ll get out of your hair.” John gave Jack a smack on the arse as he sauntered off to the door, pausing to turn his head and whisper something in his ear that Gwen couldn’t make out. Jack sighed, and laid a hand on John’s arm for a moment. Then he pushed him away.

“Go on, get out.”

“Later Jack!”

“Better make that a _long_ time later!”

The door clunked closed behind him, leaving behind a silence broken only by the final snap of the pencil Ianto had been gripping with white knuckles.

Jack visibly shook himself off, and bounded over to the rest of them. “Right. What now?”

“Now,” put in the Doctor, “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got a dead man amongst your ranks, Jack. Care you explain how that came about?” He eyed Owen up and down. “Never seen anything like him. He’s certainly not like you.”

Gwen, nervous at the direction this conversation was going, stepped a little closer to Owen, ready to defend him if necessary. Tosh had fully stepped in front of him, gunshot wound, broken arm and all.

She watched as Jack winced. “Listen, Doctor, when Owen died I couldn’t just give up on him, and so I–”

“Oh, no no no, I don’t disapprove!” said the Doctor. “I’m all about a bit of strategic resurrection if you’ve got the chance. He’s _not_ like you, I said. Not a fixed point in space-time, so he doesn’t make the Tardis feel all queasy.”

“Well, that’s reassuring” deadpanned Owen.

“But if not that” mused the Doctor, “then what _is_ he?”

“Standing right here, is what he is” said Gwen, stepping forward. “Don’t talk about Owen like that.”

“Ah... right.” The Doctor looked a little bit chastened. “Sorry. Just...” he met Owen’s eye. “Tell me. Do you like being like this?”

Owen frowned. “What? Dead?”

“Yes. Do you prefer this?”

“What? Is this a trick question? Are you going to kill me for real if I say it’s not all sunshine and rainbows being functionally a zombie?”

“No, that would be barbaric” said the Doctor patiently. “Would you rather be back to how you were when you were alive?”

Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I haven’t got much choice in the matter, way I see it.”

“What if... you did.”

“What?”

“There’s something, something that might be able to help. I was trying to figure out if–” he broke off, staring. “Oh!” he yelled a moment later. “Oh, of course! Yes! Jack. Thank you for reminding me. That might just work... yes, yes yes yes... hang on, just need to... get something…”

He started running off towards the door of the Tardis, but Jack barred his way. “Wait.”

“I’m not going to leave, Jack” said the Doctor.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Not without saying goodbye. Promise you! I’m just going to get something...” as Jack let him past, they all heard a clattering and rummaging from the other side of the open door, somewhere in the depths of the ship. “Oh, you’ll like this!” he said, emerging again. He seemed to be carrying a squat cylinder of some sort, wrapped in what looked like a pink silk scarf.

He pulled the silk away with a proud grin and a magician-esque flourish, to reveal... a jar?

Gwen squinted at it. It was about the size of a jam jar – in fact, she thought it might actually definitely be a jam jar, what with the raspberries printed on the lid – but inside it, she saw something glowing. A dense cloud of golden specks, buzzing about in a swarm of warm brightness.

“How d’you like _this_!” said the Doctor.

“Lovely. Jar of golden bees.” said Owen, folding his arms. “Really though, could someone explain to me what the hell is going on?”

But before he could answer, Jack stepped forward. “Doctor...” he whispered. A smile was slowly crossing his face. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I knew you’d recognise these little guys” said the Doctor, smiling back.

“Well, that _is_ a blast from the past. Or the future, I guess, depending on how you wanna categorise it.”

“Fifty-first century, by way of 1941” said the Doctor. “Could go either way.”

“The very first time we met!” said Jack, looking nostalgic. “I was a different man back then.”

“Weren't we all.”

“But where did you get them?” asked Jack, tapping the glass wall of the jar. “The crash site?”

The Doctor shook his head. “The air in your ship was full of the things.” He shook his head, looking around at the others. “Take it as a life lesson: nanogenes are like glitter. _Well_. Self-multiplying, semi-sentient AI glitter. Which is, of course, both the best and the worst sort. Point is, you just can’t get them out. Do you know, when Jack walked onto my nice, clean ship the first time, they were practically falling out of the pockets of his coat. I find them down the cracks in the console to this day. All I could do was try and pick up as many as possible in a jam jar.”

“Pretty, useful, _and_ hard to get rid of permanently.” Jack smiled. “No wonder I reminded you of them.”

“Will you two stop reminiscing about your first date and explain what those things are?” asked Owen.

“Oh yes, sorry. Nanogenes!” said the Doctor. “Molecular-scale medical robots, designed to get inside the bloodstream and fix physical injury or disease, on a cellular level. Itty bitty, clever little things. Now, if I’m right, and I think I _am_ right, they should theoretically be able to fix every cell in your body, one by one. Then, you restart your heart, get you breathing again, and _bam!_ One alive Doctor Owen Harper.”

“But...that won’t bring me back to _life_ ” said Owen, frowning. “My body’s dead, isn’t it?”

“Wrong. Well. The second part's technically correct. Your _cells_ are dead, though they’re not decomposing. That makes everything easier” said the Doctor. He shrugged. “What’s life? A living body, which hopefully the nanogenes should take care of. Living neurons capable of firing in your brain, which, ditto. After that all it’ll take is air in your lungs, and a shock to restart your heart... I assume you have a defibrillator somewhere in this place?”

“Of course we do” said Owen. “But…but what about...” he waved a hand in the air. “Sentience. Higher brain function. My memories, the ones that make me, _me_. The emergent stuff neuroscience doesn’t agree on. Oh, fuck it, I’m just gonna say it... what about my _soul_? For lack of a better term?”

“Oh, _well_ , that’s the easy part” said the Doctor. “You’ve had that all along, obviously. It never left.”

“...Oh. Right. Of course. Well” said Owen, blinking a few times. He took the jar of nanogenes that the Doctor offered.

“Now, it is every cell in your body, so I warn you, it’s going to take... a while” said the Doctor. “No idea how long, but at least a few weeks I should think. You should try to keep still for at least an hour each day and let them work on fixing you, then let them rest for a while. They’re not designed to operate around the clock.”

“Some drink coffee, some prefer tea, and some have daily breaks for future nanobot spa treatment” said Ianto.

“Basically... that’s the idea, yes.”

“I can live with that” said Owen slowly, clutching the jar to his chest. “Hey...I can _live_ with that...”

“Want to try them right now?”

“...Course. Why not?”

“Open the jar, then. Let them get to know you.”

Owen lifted his head to meet Jack’s eyes. When Jack gave him an encouraging nod he opened the jar, tipping it gingerly onto his palm. Gwen watched in mild trepidation as a swarm of them expanded out, surrounding Owen in a golden, pulsating nimbus of light. She saw him smile, raising a hand in the midst of it and drawing it through in fascination, watching the nanogenes dance around it, sinking here and there into his flesh, lighting his skin in subtle gold as though from underneath.

As they all watched, a few clumps of nanogenes peeled off the main cloud, making their way over to Tosh’s side, enveloping her arm and the gunshot wound in her stomach in golden light. Another bunch of them circled Ianto’s shoulder and chest and his bloody nose, and he raised his hands just in time to let them all see the grazes on his knuckles melt away. Even Gwen, who had no more than a few shallow cuts and bruises, felt them heal over. Her skin felt gently warmed, the tension she hadn’t even realised she had been holding in her back beginning to ebb just a little. It tickled a bit, like being brushed with a feather.

“Of course, they’ll also heal up anyone else who needs it” said the Doctor. “You can have that one on me.”

“Are they safe?” Tosh asked nervously.

“Oh, yeah, these ones are perfectly safe” said the Doctor. “Difficult to go wrong with nanogenes. Unless, that is, you release some rogue ones that don’t have a good grasp on what a human is supposed to look like, mistakenly converting the human race into gas-mask-wearing zombies, just because _someone_ wasn’t careful enough with the kind of space rubbish they were throwing around. Hypothetically.”

“Oddly specific, that” commented Ianto, squinting at Jack.

The Doctor waved a hand. “Right off the top of my head, I swear.” He winked.

“Hey, that was a _long_ time ago” protested Jack. “I thought we were even for _that_ , at least. And it’s not like I didn’t save your ass a few times.”

“Course we’re even. Just, you know. Got to make sure no one repeats the mistakes of the past.” He gave Owen a disarming smile and a pat on the shoulder, which was hardly noticed as Owen was turning his hands over and watching the golden light play across them. “You should be fine though. These ones are well trained on humans.” He grinned. “Maybe steer clear of the nineteen forties anyway though, just in case. Weird times.”

“Easier said than done, sometimes” muttered Tosh.

“Long story” said Jack, by way of explanation. He stood in front of the Doctor, between Gwen and Ianto. “Thank you” he said. There was a look on his face, a sort of desperate... something. He dropped his voice, so Gwen had to struggle to hear. “I’ve lost so many people” he admitted. “I’ve seen too much death while you were gone, Doctor.”

“Well, not this time” said the Doctor. “Sometimes, everybody really does live, Jack.”

“I know. Thanks for reminding me.”

* * *

When Gwen left the Hub at last, it was long past midnight, and she was half asleep on her feet. On the other side of the Hub, Owen was half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa, surrounded by a golden cloud of nanogenes. Tosh was beside him, and they were talking in voices too soft for Gwen to hear. But she couldn’t help but smile, seeing their heads so close together, their hands so nearly touching on the cushions between them.

She found Ianto half dozing off in a chair, but he woke up with a jolt as she passed.

“Oh! Gwen. Going home?”

“Rhys is picking me up” she said. “You should get some sleep too, you know. Proper sleep, in a real bed. I think we’ve all earned it.”

“Jack–”

“Jack’s with the Doctor right now. I don’t know how long they’ll be.”

“’S’fine” said Ianto, sleepily. “I can wait.”

She thought of arguing, but instead she patted Ianto’s shoulder gently. “Goodnight then, Ianto.”

“Goodnight, Gwen.”

Outside the cold air hit her face, damp with the drizzle that had started to fall on the city. The chill of it woke her up a little, but her head still spun with exhaustion under the harsh orange streetlight. And so she didn’t notice Rhys until he was right beside her, looming up in her peripheral vision. For the briefest moment she flinched, too used to shadows in the darkness, hiding things that meant her harm.

But as soon as she heard his voice saying her name she melted into his embrace, letting him enfold her in his arms with the endless rush of the water tower at their backs. To her surprise, within half a minute she found her face wet with tears, then sobbing into Rhys’ shoulder.

He drew back, alarmed, thumbing away a tear on her cheek. “Gwen? What... what happened? Did... oh, fuck. Did someone...”

She shook her head, smiling through her tears. “No. Everyone... everyone’s fine.” She could hardly believe it herself; that had been too close. “It’s over, Rhys. It’s over.”

He smiled, letting her lean sleepily against him. “C’mon. The car’s not far away. Let’s go home.”

* * *

The silence hung heavy between Tosh and Owen. But it was not an uncomfortable silence as Tosh had feared. It was more the sleepy, thoughtful sort of silence, surrounding them as surely as Owen’s own personal cloud of nanogenes. Their light illuminated his face, gold playing across the angles of his cheekbones, reflecting in his half-lidded eyes.

Still, Tosh had to break the silence, she knew. There was something she had to say before she lost her nerve entirely.

“Owen? I just wanted to say” said Tosh, forcing the words out. “What you said before. It’s okay, if you didn’t mean it. I mean, it’s like you said back then. Grief. Makes you say things.”

Owen gave her an incredulous look. “Are you fucking having me on right now?”

“What?” Tosh frowned, wishing she had something to fidget with. “No, I mean–”

“You’re afraid that when I said I...” he floundered for a few seconds, “that I loved you, that I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, you know. You said yourself–”

“I was hardly in the best place then.” Owen was frowning. “Did _you_ mean it?”

“ _Yes_ ” said Tosh immediately. She gritted her teeth; she was embarrassing herself, she knew. She was going to ruin this. And after all Owen had done today, for her, for all of them. She dropped her voice to nearly a whisper and looked away. “Besides, nothing you didn’t know already.”

“Fuck’s sake” said Owen, rolling his eyes. “okay, I see you’re working yourself up into a big _thing_ about this.” He looked over at her, catching and holding her gaze. “I meant it too” he said, softer now, “and I’m _sorry_ , if I was shitty to you before. You didn’t deserve that. But I was dead, you know, and...you were alive, and everything was just so _fucking_ rubbish for me, for a while. And I’m sorry it took all we’ve been through today, you nearly dying–” Owen paused for a moment where a living person would take a long, steadying breath, lifting his hands. Around them swirled golden specks of light. “But who knows, maybe... maybe things can be different now. Better. Maybe _I_ can be better. So, uh. Let’s start now. I _do_ love you, Tosh, and that’s that.”

“Owen...” she didn’t know what to say; if she had imagined this – and she had – it had been nothing like what had just happened. But then, nothing ever was. She smiled, feeling tears run down her face as she took his cool hands in her own, trying to transfer some of her living warmth over to them. Around where their fingers met, golden glimmering lights flocked. It tickled a little. She didn’t know what she wanted to say; she just wanted _this moment_ , to live in it a little longer. So many things slipped away too easily.

“I think this is the part where we’re supposed to kiss” said Owen, doubtfully. “I’m very cold though, I warn you–”

She interrupted him with a kiss, bringing up their hands bunched together in between them. When they finally broke apart, she couldn’t stop smiling. “You _are_ very cold” she said, unable to keep back a laugh. “Positively clammy!”

“Hey! You seemed to like it fine before!”

“I was dying, Owen.”

“Oh _well_ , I’m a last resort, then? Final make-out opportunity of your earthly life.You’re really boosting my self-confidence here, Tosh.”

She sighed. “You could never be a last resort, Owen” she said, leaning against him. The golden cloud of nanogenes shifted to envelope her too as he pulled her in against his side, as naturally as if they’d been doing this for years.

“Very romantic” said Owen, rolling his eyes again, but undercut it by leaning sideways, burying his face in her hair so her face was pressed against the cool skin of his neck.

“We’ll work on it” said Tosh, as the two of them leaned against one another, swathed in a glimmering cloud of gold.

* * *

Jack stood next to the Doctor, the two of them peering through the scratched plexiglass of the cell. Gray looked a lot younger like this. There were more years between them now as it was – well, of course there were – but the difference seemed starker than ever. He was laid out across the cell’s bench with the spare blanket and a pillow Jack had brought from his own underground bunk, and a couple of cushions from the dilapidated sofa in the middle of the Hub. There was a shiny, purpling bruise across Gray’s jaw, a split lip, but other than that he seemed entirely unharmed. His hands lay on top of the blanket, the heavy shackles on his wrists catching the light as they rose and fell with his breathing.

“What’d you do to him, Doctor?” Jack asked softly.

“Oh, nothing too invasive, I promise. Just… telepathically loosened a few of the neurological pathways associated with trauma. Took the edge off. Would’ve asked first, but he did seem like he was about to commit several murders at the time. Didn’t really give me the chance.”

“What does that mean though? Will he...” Jack frowned. “Will he not remember?” Maybe that would be for the best. Still, it made Jack feel... something. He didn’t know. He didn’t usually have many qualms with wiping people’s memories, but in this case it felt a little close to home.

“Oh no, he’ll remember everything” said the Doctor sadly. “There’s too much there. Too much hurt. Years of it. Ever since the day they took him away.” He laid a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That’s not something I can fix.”

Jack dropped his gaze. “Right. Of course.”

“Look, think of it like this. The things he’s suffered, they’re all tangled up in his mind with his memories of you. Which are tangled up with his negative emotions, all that pain and loss, a whole life stolen from him. By you, as he sees it. All I did was...” the Doctor made a complicated gesture, “loosen those connections a bit. Distance the pain from it all. Hopefully when he wakes up, he should be able to see things more clearly.”

“So he _will_ wake up, then” said Jack. It was almost too much to hope for. “He’ll... be able to start to heal?”

“Maybe. But I won’t lie, Jack. It won’t be easy. He’s going to have to want it… he’s going to have to _work_ for it. Those connections, all that emotion, it’ll need to be replaced with something. Build up his mental architecture so it’s strong again.” The Doctor frowned. “There’ll be good days and very bad days. And probably very, _very_ bad days.”

“That’s always true, around here. And I’ll be around to help him. I won’t let him go again.”

“Didn’t doubt it for a second. But it’s going to take _time_ , Jack. And care, and attention, and love. But mostly, time.”

Jack looked up at him, a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Well, why didn’t you say. I’ve got all of those things, going spare.”

“I know” said the Doctor. He looked proud, Jack realised. He patted Jack on the back, pulling him into a side hug. “Seeing you with your team, and them with you… there’s enough love in this place to power a spaceship.” He grinned. “No Rift energy required.”

Jack thought of the sight of all of them, faces against the blue sky looking down at him, the first sight he’d seen when they dug him out of the ground. He thought of Tosh dropping off to sleep against Owen’s side on the sofa, Owen pulling a spare blanket over her as the two of them were surrounded by rippling, healing golden light. He thought of Gwen, fierce and powerful in her love, holding them all together. And he thought of Ianto, the way he’d held him in his arms as though he’d never let Jack go again as long as he lived.

It had been coming on for a while, but it had hit him like a train – still not a good metaphor for it, but it’d have to do – how much he loved Ianto. Maybe he’d even tell him so one day. All the reasons why he shouldn’t – and there had been good, sensible ones, Jack was sure of it – seemed more distant now, as though someone had been in his own head and telepathically moved all the furniture around.

He shook himself a little, giving the Doctor a smile. “You could stay here for a while” he said. “If you want. Get to know my team a bit better. Work with us.”

“Captain Jack Harkness, are you trying to recruit me to Torchwood?”

Jack was unable to resist a wink. “I’m down for it if you are.”

The Doctor laughed. “Thanks, Jack. Flattered. But you know I’m not into that.”

“Shame” he said, pulling the Doctor into a proper hug. He drew back. “So, how’re you doing without Martha?”

The Doctor made a wiggly motion with his hand. “Eh. Back to the same old life.”

“You’re still on your own, though” said Jack. “That’s not like you.”

The Doctor’s shoulders slumped, almost imperceptibly. “I know” he said. He smiled. “Thank you, Jack. Seeing you and your people... made me realise I’ve been alone too long. Probably time I found some people of my own again.”

“I hope you do” said Jack. He gave one last look to Gray, asleep in the cell, and began walking to the stairs back up to the Hub with the Doctor.

“Ah, shouldn’t be too hard” said the Doctor as they climbed the stairs up from the lower levels. “I’ll just keep traveling. Always seem to stumble across good ones in the end.”

“Where will you go?”

“Don’t know yet.” They got to the top of the stairs. “Could go see the triple alignment of the neutron stars of Khalimaran-Delta-Seven. Or, I could go visit the everlasting time-rapids, the great shower drain of the universal time-stream... always interesting stuff washing up there.”

“Sounds like a great holiday spot” said Jack, with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t knock it. Oh! Also, this one’s just around the corner. London, 5th April 2008. Chiswick.”

“What? That’s tomorrow.”

“Yep! Convenient, isn’t it?”

“What’s there? Something alien? What’s going to happen?”

“Can’t say” said the Doctor. “But I did hear a little while back that a very suspicious-sounding company’s been selling miracle diet pills. I thought I’d poke around a bit, since I’m so nearby.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Could always give up the time travel and go into investigative journalism. Though I might have to wipe your memory of this place if you did.”

The Doctor threw him a roguish grin, over his shoulder. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Huh. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

“ _You’re_ one to talk.”

Jack smiled, pleased with himself. “I am.” They had reached where the Tardis was parked now, and he leaned against its outer wall as the Doctor unlocked the door. “So, is this goodbye Doctor?”

“For now? Yes, I suppose so. But not forever, I’m sure.”

He nodded. “Forever’s a long time, after all.”

The Doctor gave him a look that Jack couldn’t quite read. “It is. It really, really is.”

“Thanks for what you did today.” Jack leaned forward and kissed the Doctor on the cheek, just by the corner of his mouth. “Torchwood’s here if you need us. We’re in your debt for this.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“And I’m not planning on going anywhere soon.”

“Don’t I know it. Goodbye, Jack.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

And with a wink, the Doctor walked into the Tardis and closed the door.

As the sound of the Tardis filled the Hub, at last fading and leaving him all alone, Jack wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake letting him go again. But no, he realised as he passed Tosh and Owen sleeping curled together on the sofa. Owen was probably only pretending to sleep Jack knew, but he ruffled Owen’s hair and pulled the blanket up over them both where it had slipped down. Sure enough, just as he turned away he saw Owen’s mouth twitch at the corner, eyes still closed.

Jack smiled too.

On the walk back up to his office he found Ianto asleep, sprawled forward over the desk at his station. Jack sighed; he had meant to send Ianto home, make him promise to get a good night’s rest. It seemed to be too late for that though.

“Ianto...” he shook Ianto’s arm gently. “Ianto.”

“Mm? Jack?” Ianto raised his head a little, eyes still mostly closed, but a small smile appeared on his face.

Jack ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair; there was still brick dust in it from the explosion, but then there was probably still earth in his own hair.

It didn’t matter now. They’d clean away the dirt and dust tomorrow; right now all that mattered was sleep. “Ianto” he said. “I need you to wake up for me. Just for a few minutes.”

“Nnn. Welp... if it’s for you.” Ianto sat up a bit straighter, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh. Sorry. Must’ve fallen asleep.”

“It’s okay. C’mon.”

With great care he helped Ianto up, stumbling sleepily out and up the stairs to Jack’s office. How they managed to get down the ladder, Jack never knew, but once they were in his bunk, Ianto half collapsed against him, a warm and sleepy kiss landing at Jack’s jaw.

He smiled, just holding Ianto in his arms for a long moment, comforted by the weight and solidity of him. There were a million thoughts and fears and hopes running through Jack’s mind, but this... this was grounding, simple and comforting. Ianto muttered something, muffled against Jack’s collar.

“Huh?”

“You came back.”

Jack’s heart ached as he held Ianto’s face in one hand, sitting the two of them down on the edge of the bed. “Of course I did. You didn’t think I was gonna run off with him, did you?”

Ianto shrugged, wordless. “No. Not... well. Not really. But, you did before.”

“Oh, well, that was _before_ ” said Jack, making a face in the half-darkness. He held Ianto close to his chest, slipping him out of his jacket, waistcoat and tie, hanging them over a rung of the ladder. “I told you, didn’t I? I came back for you. Always for you.”

He felt Ianto smile against his neck. “I know, Jack.”

“Good.” The sleepy tenderness in Ianto's voice, the subtle vulnerability, had felt like being stabbed in the chest. _Ianto Jones, what have you done to me_ , Jack thought, helpless.

Some time later, when Ianto had collapsed in a deep sleep across the bed, it was easier for Jack to slip off his shoes and socks, to hang up the clothes with the others, shoes alongside his own boots in the corner.

Jack undressed himself quickly too, slipping in beside Ianto and holding him in his arms. Lips pressed against the very back of Ianto’s neck in the too-small bed.

Yes; in the end, Jack knew, he’s made exactly the right choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN I noticed that the air date (which I am assuming is when it's set, given that I know of no information to the contrary) for Exit Wounds was the 4th of April 2008. Partners in Crime, meanwhile, was the 5th of April 2008, so the very next day. Which is meaningless in canonverse, but in this? Of COURSE I'm going to use that as an opportunity to feel feelings about the Doctor being super lonely before he met back up with Donna. Of course I'm going to do that. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you're enjoying this! Next chapter, we will see more of Gray, because the way canon treats him makes me slightly annoyed but mostly just sad (especially about the missed potential with his character.)
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe, and/or leave a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Torchwood Archives: case file 38921**

Transcript of ongoing interviews of Gray Thane by Torchwood Officer Captain Jack Harkness, henceforth abbreviated GT and JH respectively. [Crossref: case file 38920, involving GT and terrorist actions committed on his behalf by Captain John Hart, on 04/04/08.]

Attached: original recording by JH.

Signed off and archived by Torchwood Archivist Ianto Jones.

[Transcript begins]

**[Session 1. 14:07, 07/04/08]**

_JH: Hey, Gray. I came down here to check on you. And to talk._

_[A short pause. GT does not reply.]_

_JH: So, uh, I noticed you’re still wearing your original clothes, not the ones I brought you. That’s okay. If there’s something you’d rather wear, please tell me._

_JH: More seriously, you didn’t eat anything last night. You have to eat, Gray. You know that, don’t you? Of course you do, I didn’t mean to – look, I know it’s been hard for you. We’re going to work on it together, but I need you to work with me._

_JH: Gray, I know you said you wouldn’t forgive me. I... that makes me sad, but I understand why. But you don’t have to, you just have to let me help you._

_JH: I want to help you. I know I can never make up for... everything you’ve suffered. But I’m not doing this for your forgiveness, Gray. I’m doing this because you’re my brother, and I care about you. I want you to be able to stop hurting._

_JH: So, are you ready to answer me?_

_JH: Gray._

_JH: Please speak to me, Gray._

_JH: I know, you wanted to make me suffer. I know you blame me. But please... let me help you._

_JH: Gray?_

_[There is a pause of approximately a minute]_

_JH: Do you want me to stay here?_

_JH: Well, maybe that’s enough for now. We’ll try again later._

**[Session 2. 18:34, 07/04/08]**

_JH: So, it’s me again. I brought you some food. I know it's probably weird to you, took me a while to get used to the food back when I first got stuck on this planet. Not that... you’re stuck here forever, necessarily. We’re just... keeping you here for a while. Gonna try to help._

_JH: You need to eat, Gray. It’s been days._

_JH: Well, okay. One thing at a time._

_JH: I’ve been thinking, that it’s possible that we could get you outside help. Might be better than me, anyway, given... the circumstances. I keep thinking that seeing me is only making it worse. But it’s… complicated. Hard to find someone like that._

_JH: I’ll look into it. I’ll keep you posted._

_JH: I’ll leave you your tray. Please eat something, Gray._

**[Session 3. 08:15, 08/04/08]**

_JH: Gray? Oh, good, you’re awake._

_JH: Did you sleep? I know you’ve been having nightmares. And I know it’s not the best down here, but you understand, with what happened I can’t let you leave until we know you’re not a threat to any of my team, or anybody else._

_JH: I brought you breakfast._

_JH: I noticed you ate some of the food I brought you last night. That’s good... that’s great! You should drink some more water, though. Okay?_

_JH: Okay. Hey, so what’s been going on on my end? Oh, I forgot to say but I spoke to the mayor yesterday, managed to smooth everything over with what happened the other day, so there’s no need to worry about that coming back to you. We’re taking good care of all that._

_JH: Anyway. I suppose I’ll let you eat breakfast… got some paperwork to do._

_JH: If you need anything... well, I’ll come and check on you later today._

* * *

_**[9:15pm, 29 th April, 2008]** _

“God, you never realise how much you’d miss pasta until some bastard shoots you in the chest, and some other bastard brings you back to life without a functional digestive system” said Owen. He was lounging over the back of the sofa as Rhys passed Ianto the pan of spaghetti carbonara, watching mournfully as Ianto put some on his own plate and passed the pan and tongs along to Tosh. They were sitting in chairs grouped close around the small table, Gwen at the counter opening another bottle of wine.

“You just have to be patient” said Tosh, pausing between forkfuls of pasta to reach backwards and pat Owen consolingly on the shoulder. “You’re lucky… you get to be alive again soon.”

“Yeah, how are the nanogenes working?” asked Gwen, coming over and pouring wine for everyone but Owen. “It’s been three weeks. Any better?”

Owen made a face. “It’s weird. It’s not like I’m _alive_ , but it doesn’t feel like being dead, either. It’s all...” he frowned, waving a hand around. “Like, imagine if you felt sort of like you did now, but you weren’t breathing and your heart wasn’t beating… I dunno. Like I said. It’s weird.” He shrugged. “Still, can’t complain I guess.”

“I’m glad” said Gwen, sitting down between Rhys and Ianto and picking up her fork. It was late, and she hadn’t realised how hungry she was. “God Rhys, this is amazing” she said, between bites.

“Yeah, thanks for cooking for a crowd. I know it was short notice...”

“Ah, no problem.” Rhys gave them all a good-natured smile. It was what Gwen was coming to know as his no-aliens-immediately-present mood, and she adored him for it. “You people work too hard, down there in that damp basement. Giving you the night off was the best decision Jack’s ever made, if you ask me.”

They all stared down at their plates for a moment at the mention of Jack, feeling his absence amongst them.

“How _is_ Jack?” Tosh asked Ianto curiously.

He put down his knife with a clack on the side of his plate. “I don’t know why you imagine he tells me any more than he tells you.”

“Because you two’re shagging?” piped up Owen from the sofa. “Or... _oh_. Not as much shagging going on as usual? That it?”

“Wait.” Rhys’ eyes locked onto Ianto, as though rethinking everything he thought he knew. “You and Jack…? Jack and you…? Since when?”

Gwen rolled her eyes, patting Rhys on the shoulder. “Darling, I love you, but you’re really bloody oblivious sometimes. Also, Owen? Shut up.” She leaned sideways, nudging Ianto’s arm slightly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Jack’s just in… a hard place right now. It’s just… you know. Everything with Gray...”

“Yeah...I know.” Ianto sighed, pushing pasta around his plate. “He’s been busy.”

“Are you worried? About Jack, I mean.”

“...He’s Jack. He’ll be okay.” Ianto thought for a moment, skewering a piece of ham with his fork a little too hard. “...Maybe, a bit, though.”

“A bit?”

“Okay. Quite a lot.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“Novel solution for Torchwood, but... yes, actually. Much good as it did.” Ianto pursed his lips. “Thinks it’s _his burden to bear_ , or something equally stupid I expect.”

Tosh nodded. “That does sound like Jack, yeah.”

“You’ve been archiving all the interviews” said Gwen, “do you... do you think Jack’s right? To try to save Gray?”

Ianto made a noncommittal noise, staring down at his plate.

“I don’t think it matters if he’s wrong or right” said Tosh. “I think it’s what Jack needs. To put himself at peace.”

“Gray _shot_ you, Tosh” protested Owen.

“I’m aware” she said, wincing. “But that’s not really the issue here, is it?”

“Exactly. As I keep saying, we should’ve taken the chance while knockoff-brand Anakin Skywalker over there was bloody unconscious and frozen him once and for all, and then we wouldn’t be–”

“Frozen him?” interrupted Rhys. “When you say _frozen–_ ”

“Don’t worry about it, dear” said Gwen hastily, patting his arm again. “Owen, no. We’re not freezing him. We agreed.”

“Speak for yourself” muttered Owen. “Anyway, if anyone’s got a better idea I’d like to hear it.”

They were silent for a moment more.

“If you ask me” said Ianto unexpectedly, “I think the principle is sound, but the way Jack’s going about it is going to get him nowhere.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Not a single word out of Gray all this time, not one” he said. “The transcripts are frustrating just to read. I didn’t know Jack was even capable of that much patience.”

“Well what would you do, if it was you?”

“...I don’t know. But there’s _got_ to be a better way.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s Jack” said Gwen thoughtfully. “Maybe if someone else were to try talking to him... there’s got to be something.”

“Yes, but what? I don’t think he’s much more likely to speak to any of the rest of us. Besides, Jack’s nervous about letting any of us be alone with him, in case... you know.”

“In case he tries to murder anyone again” said Owen.

“Yes, that.”

They were quiet again, but this time it was a little more uncomfortable.

“Soooo” said Gwen, twirling some pasta on her fork. “Jack aside, anyone else been up to anything interesting?”

“Got knocked on the head by a weevil in Park Place this afternoon" said Ianto, reaching up and touching the dressing on his forehead. “That’s about it.”

“You’ll be fine” said Owen. “Like I said before, minor concussion, but nothing serious in the long term. And hey, we all got a night off because Jack feels guilty.”

“Mmm.”

“Well, _I_ had a good day today, before the weevil stuff” said Tosh brightly. “Remember that temporal locking system I was working on? Well, I’ve done some tweaks on the chronostatic containment field, anchoring it to the frequencies used by the Rift Manipulator, so it can draw power from the Rift itself and run indefinitely. I’ve set up a trigger for when the Hub goes into lockdown, and a manual override of course. But it should keep us safer, in situations like... well, a few weeks ago.”

“I don’t know what any of that meant, but that last part sounds good” commented Rhys, helping himself to more pasta.

“It’s amazing, is what it is” said Gwen. “Tosh, where would we be without you?”

“A question for the ages” said Tosh. “Oh! And I haven’t got there quite yet, but I’ve also been trying to make the system portable.” She gestured. “Little portable time bubbles, that can be activated when there’s danger. Nothing can get in or out. We could have one each!”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Yeah, you could use it to...I don’t know. Keep a prisoner in. Shelter from a bomb blast.”

“I can think of other things you could use it for” said Owen, smirking.

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Aaaand, even though you’re dead you’ve still got a one-track mind.”

“Look who’s talking. Jack isn’t paying you as much attention as usual and you’re sulking over your pasta. But that’s sexual frustration for you.”

“ _Sulking_ …?!? I’m _not–_ ”

“Hey,” said Gwen, “to be fair to Ianto, I don’t think it’s sexual frustration. Not judging by the noises I heard coming from the boardroom yesterday afternoon. Not to mention the deleted CCTV.”

Ianto frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “Yesterday? The boardroom? ...That wasn’t me and Jack.”

“Oh, come on Ianto, we all know–”

“No! It really, really wasn’t. ...We were up in the greenhouse all afternoon. And I know Jack kept a copy of _that_ CCTV. I don’t guarantee he’d let you see it if you asked, though.”

“I’ll pass.” Gwen frowned. “Then...” slowly, she looked around at Tosh, who was desperately, and badly, trying to hide her blush. “Tosh….you? And _who_?” she scanned the rest of them.

Owen was, for once in his life, avoiding her gaze. She frowned. “ _Owen?_ ”

“Bloody hell, how do any of you even have the _time_ to catch aliens” commented Rhys, starting to collect the plates.

Gwen was barely listening. “B-but… you’re dead! Or at the very least, not alive yet. Then, can you still, you know...”

“Why do Torchwood gatherings always end up this way” muttered Ianto in the background. “Even _without_ Jack here...”

“Well, it’s not ideal” said Owen, with a grin. “But, they’ll be plenty of time for things to be more... two-sided, in my coming new life. But for now, I’ve still got hands. And a mouth.”

“For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have minded waiting a few more weeks” said Tosh, blushing furiously. “But Owen _offered_ , so...”

“Oh, god” said Gwen. She narrowed her eyes at Tosh. “Dead people, that’s a new one even by Torchwood standards. I think.” She narrowed her eyes at both of them. “...How was it?”

“...Clammy” said Tosh, making Ianto stand up and walk over to help Rhys with the dishes, looking as though he were in great pain. “But nice.”

“What a ringing endorsement” said Owen, but he reached over and touched her shoulder, with more affection than she thought she’d ever seen from him.

Gwen took a deep breath, looking around. “ _Wel_ _l_. I’m glad you two are... happy? But I don’t know how to follow up on any of that. So, uh. Does anyone want more wine?”

“Yes please” Ianto called over his shoulder immediately.

“Okay, I’ll just–”

“Uh, everyone?” Tosh said, her voice changing suddenly. Gwen turned around to see her looking at her PDA. “Hate to interrupt this, but I just got a security alert from the Hub.”

Immediately, they were all crowding around, except for Rhys who carried on drying dishes. Ianto held his soapy, rubber-gloved hands in the air so that they wouldn’t get the screen wet, leaning over Tosh’s shoulder to squint at the PDA in her hands. “Oh, it’s just the archive system. Security level three item sign-out notification. But what did Jack want from...” his eyes widened, as Tosh scrolled down and he recognised the item code. “Oh. Hmm.”

Gwen looked at Ianto. “Not good?”

“Maybe not good.”

“Dangerous?”

“Quite possibly.” Ianto thought for a moment. “Actually, I have no idea. Never did find out what that thing really did.”

“Well, you can think about it on the way” said Owen. “I can drive, I haven’t been drinking. Unfortunately.”

Gwen sighed. “Sorry, Rhys. Looks like we’ve got to go to work.”

“Bloody Torchwood. Use me for my cooking and then leave” he said, but there was a smile in it. He gave her a hug, kissing her on the cheek and going to hand her her coat. “Go on. Go keep Jack out of trouble.”

“Easier said than done” she said as they all trouped out the door.

* * *

**[Session 48. 19:32, 29/04/08]**

_JH: Listen, Gray. I’ve got an idea – well, sort of an idea. Might be able to help you. I don’t know. There’s something in the archives, that I’ve been thinking about. Not that I want to get anyone’s hopes up, but... ah, anyway. We’ll see._

_JH: See the thing is, I don’t want you to have to stay in these cells forever. I know that it’s cruel, I know it’s not... ideal, for anyone. But there’s nothing I can do for you, unless you talk to me._

_JH: Well, okay, maybe another time. So, hmm, what’s been happening around here since yesterday…well, I sent the team home early tonight, they deserve the night off. There was a particularly nasty weevil attack, broad daylight, right by the National Museum. Pluses: we caught the weevil, and Tosh managed to spread the story that it was historical reenactors. Minuses: Ianto got a nasty bump on the head. He’ll be fine, Owen looked him over, but y’know, can’t be too careful. Oh! And Tosh’s been working on her time lock again, it’s really neat. Hardly seen anything like it since – oh, maybe I shouldn’t say. Sorry. Tosh made me promise not to–_

_JH: Anyway, that’s about all the updates from around here right now. I can stay if you want...?_

_[There is a short silence]_

_JH: Okay, message received. I’ll be upstairs if you need me._

_JH: And hey. One day? We’ll fix things. I promise. However long it takes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, because this and the next one was originally supposed to be a single chapter. But it got super long, and the next part is more of a single section. However, it means that Chapter 4 is all written, it just needs editing, so expect that very soon!


	4. Chapter 4

If anyone had asked Jack, he would have said he was always sure that Gray would talk to him eventually. The reality though – if he was honest with himself – was rather different; it had been over three weeks now, and for around the last two of them part of him had been preparing, steeling himself for the possibility that his brother would never speak to him, or anyone, again.

The Hub was never completely dark or silent, even on the many nights Jack had spent alone there. There were always blinking lights from the computers and the soft, by-now-familiar sounds of Myfanwy nesting high up above. Odd, the things you could get used to, he thought as he climbed the stairs to the balcony. He sighed, pausing for a moment to look out over the Hub. He wished, selfishly perhaps, that Ianto was here. He could phone him, he knew. Ianto would probably come as soon as he called, and Jack could lose himself until morning came. Helping to keep away the heaviness that still sat on his heart, even now. Even after everything was supposed to be better.

Ianto cared about him, and Jack could tell that he saw that worry, reflecting it back on him. The others did too. That wasn’t fair, Jack thought. It was one of the reasons he’d insisted they all go home tonight, even pulled rank to order them to take the night off.

That had been several hours ago. Now he was sitting all alone, habitually checking the CCTV for anything out of the ordinary.

He wasn’t expecting anything. Which was why he sat up straight with alarm when he saw the feed from Gray’s cell.

Without a second thought, he was running down the stairs two at a time. Barrelling through the door, he saw his brother, thrashing amidst the blankets, fallen off the small bench in the cell and screaming out in his sleep.

“Gray! Gray, wake up. Wake up, it’s okay!” Jack was in Gray’s cell within a minute, holding his brother by the shoulders. Gray’s eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, pupils immediately contracting as the light hit them, eyes still unfocused and glazed with dread. Jack gritted his teeth, trying to hold Gray down at least enough to keep him from hitting his head against the wall again; blood already trickled down from just above his eyebrow, sticking the lashes of his right eye together into points. His wrists too were bloodied, where perhaps somewhere in the depths of a nightmare he'd tried to strike his handcuffs off.

As soon as Gray woke enough to recognise Jack he snarled, drawing back into the corner and shrinking away from his touch, striking out with furious strength and speed. Jack dodged the blow from his iron cuff by inches.

“Nightmares again?” said Jack, trying to collect himself. “Hey... hey. It’s not real. It’s okay.” It wasn’t, though. There had been other nights like this, other times when he’s watched on the CCTV as Gray turned over and cried out in his sleep. It was the only sound that Jack had heard him make since the Doctor had been in his mind. But this... this was the worst time yet, and it tore like a hook in his heart to watch.

Jack held his hands out to Gray, wondering what to do. Jack knew nightmares, of course he did. But only his own, or those of the people who had trusted him enough to let him see the fears they had in the dark of the night, over the decades and before he had lost them. Here he didn’t know what to do; he was afraid he had no idea what went on inside his little brother’s head.

Gray was watching him from the corner he had drawn himself up into – with nowhere else to go in the confined space of the cell – with wariness mingled with pure hatred.

They stayed like that for a long few seconds, both breathing hard, eyes locked.

“Why are you keeping me here, Javic?”

If the sound of Gray’s voice wasn’t enough to shock him back into the present, then his old name would have been. “You’re my brother, and I... I want to help you” he managed, collecting himself as best he could. He couldn’t break down here; he owed Gray better than that.

Gray laughed, a horrible, mirthless sound, his voice ragged from disuse. “I suppose killing me is too much mercy to hope for.”

The words cut into him all over again. “No one’s killing anyone” Jack said firmly.

Gray dropped his head, blood dripping down from the cut above his eye, muttering something that Jack couldn’t make out.

“What?”

Gray raised his eyes, defiant. “You’re just like _they_ were.”

The words knocked the breath from Jack’s lungs. “Gray...”

“It’s true!” his voice rose, brittle and pained, mouth turned down in an expression that was half a sneer and half a grimace of pain. “You’re just the same, keeping me locked up down here.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to help you.”

“ _Help_ me?” he laughed again, bitter and incredulous. “If that’s the truth, then you don’t understand a single thing.”

Jack sighed, reaching out – very cautiously – to touch Gray’s hand. “So, help me to.”

Gray snatched his hand back, shaking his head. “If you were really so merciful, you’d have killed me already. I think we both know death’s not the worst they can do to you. Not by a long way.”

Jack’s face fell. He knew, alright. But whatever Gray said, Jack wasn’t going to let him die on his watch.

And if Gray thought he didn’t understand, then, well. Maybe he just needed some help to.

Jack set his jaw in determination. “...I need to go get something. I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for in the archives. He punched in his access code and the door swung open with a hiss. Reaching inside the right drawer he pulled out a heavy box, aluminium lined with lead. He took a moment to check the code printed on the label. There was a Post-it note stuck beside it, and he recognised Ianto’s neat pencil handwriting.

 _PARADOX_ _SAND_ _BOX_.

This was it then. The artifact Jack had found after their two days of missing time, earlier this year. He opened the lid of the container, lifting out the inlaid wooden box with its intricately patterned lid. None of them had been able to identify it, but the radiation signature Tosh found had certainly given Jack a hunch; the resonant frequency of the box was surely too similar to that of human brain waves to be coincidence. Their working theory was that the box was a telepathic resonator, acting as an anchor for a psychic link of some sort. But they hadn’t been able to get any further without more information, and besides, if it had once been working it was now quiescent.

And so the box had gone the way of all unidentified artifacts; into the archives, until something happened that might cause them to get it out again.

Jack had an overwhelming feeling that in this case, that time had come.

As he took it out, all he could think of was the moment he had found it, the sand that had poured out into his open hand. They’d done an analysis of that too of course, and found that sure enough, it didn’t match the composition of any sand found on Earth.

Gripping the box in both hands, Jack retraced his steps to the cells.

Gray was still sitting in the same corner where Jack had left him, only now he was hunched over, knees drawn up tight to his chest, head down. Electric, live-wire tension in every line of his body. His shackled hands were stretched out and clasped in front of him, like a mockery of prayer.

Jack’s fingers tightened on the box, the corners biting into his skin. “Gray” he said. “I brought you something. Something I think...I _hope_ will be able to help.”

Gray didn’t look up; his voice, when it came, was muffled by his arms. “You can’t help. You can’t help because you don’t understand. You can never understand.” Even turned away from him, the words were vicious, wielded like weapons.

Jack entered the cell and knelt down, placing the box on the ground between them. “This will help me understand” he said, as much to reassure himself as anything. “But I need you to help me too, okay?”

If he was right about the telepathic resonator, he should be able to use it to do what the Doctor had done, to go into Gray’s mind and see the memories that were troubling him.

That was the plan, anyway.

Jack took a deep breath. He had never really been one for telepathy; the way the Time Agency had used it as a means of exerting control and selectively redacting memories really put one off the whole business. Besides, it always left a weird feeling at the back of one’s mind after. Still, this was Gray. Once there had been no one else in the world he’d known better.

He concentrated now on those memories of when they were children, running through the bright salt water breakers, bare feet kicking up the sand along the shoreline, and opened the box.

Whatever he was expecting, it was not what happened.

As the lid opened, the two of them had only a moment to look down at the inside before the world changed. The colours and sounds of the cell were suddenly in freefall, imploding inwards for a single, heart-stopping moment before the two of them found themselves somewhere else.

Somewhere else that was very familiar. Jack blinked, momentarily blinded by the glare off the waves. Overhead arced the sky he remembered, bright and wide, clouds scudding past the sun in a fresh salt breeze.

The Boeshane Peninsula. _Home_. He’d recognise the sounds and the smell of the sea air with his eyes closed.

He and Gray were no longer crouched on the ground, but standing shoulder to shoulder on the rudimentary flood barrier most of their village had worked together to build, the year the storm surge had risen high above the tide line and flooded the bay. The damp sandbags had some give under his boots, dense-packed and dark. He looked at Gray, caught him staring back with wide, unguarded eyes for a moment. Then, Gray frowned, face filled with distrust.

“Is this...? What did you do? How did we get here?”

Jack frowned, kneeling down and poking a sandbag with his finger. “I don’t think this is real. Some kind of psychic projection?” It _felt_ real though, though, down to the smallest detail. Rationally, he knew they couldn’t really have time-traveled here – that box didn’t have nearly enough power to bring them both so far through time and space, but maybe if it had interacted with the Rift in some way... he shook his head, blinking as too many thoughts crowded into his mind. He got to his feet again. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d been certain it would be a psychic link, some sort of booster for empathy and shared thoughts–

...And shared memories. Jack stared at Gray, who had turned and was looking along the shoreline. Jack noticed that in this place there was no blood on Gray’s face or wrists, and though he was dressed as he had been in the cell – they both were – he wasn’t wearing the handcuffs.

Jack didn’t have a chance to follow this thought to its logical conclusion though, because he had caught sight of what Gray was looking at.

Two figures, running along shoreline where the bay had flooded.

Two boys, dressed in loose clothes the colour of sand, their boots getting wet as they chased each other along the shore towards the nearly-submerged breakwater. Young. Still young, and still happy.

A memory, then? The box must have seized on it, pulled them both in.

“The flood...” he heard Gray say beside him, as though to himself.

The year the water had been high, turning the Boeshane Peninsula – already a narrow spit of land at the best of times – into a mere sliver, blocks of houses like tall ships rising from the ocean. That was how he remembered it; it hadn’t felt like a disaster, not really. Their mother complained about the damage and their father fretted about supplies, but to them everything felt so exciting then. “Yeah. I must have been, what, nine years old? You were five.” Jack stared at the two boys. “The water came up to Dad’s waist in the house before it started going down again.”

“...We had to help him and Mom carry everything that could be saved onto the roof. We were sleeping up there for a week.”

Jack blinked, turning to look at Gray who looked just as surprised as Jack felt, eyes wide. “Under the sky” said Jack, nodding. “The storm and the waves had passed by then.” He looked around. “By now.”

Gray’s face was almost completely blank, but many subtle expressions seemed to flicker across it as they watched the two boys run all the way along the top of the flood barrier to where there was an angular tower block. A ladder stood against the half-submerged door, leading up onto a ledge.

Their mother and father were in there. In this world – unreal though it might be – they could go see them again.

 _They could_ –  
  
Before he could think any further though, the scene had changed again.

Still the Boeshane Peninsula, but they were in a different place now, on the beach above the high tide line. A different day, too.  
  
And though there was no reason that he should, something within him knew what day it was immediately.  
  
The flood had gone, but the sky above the peninsula was overcast now, covered in blank white cloud. Perhaps, he had often thought later, perhaps if it had been a clear day then they would have had more warning, and things would have been different.  
  
Judging by the way Gray tensed beside him, face freezing and hands coming up in an aborted motion as though to block it all out, he must recognise it too.

There was a dull roaring in the sky, almost below the range of hearing, so low it felt like a rumble in the ground, or distant thunder. But they both knew better. As their eyes met, Jack saw naked terror in his brother's eyes. But Gray didn't move; he seemed to be frozen, rooted to the spot as though anchored in time.

They were facing inland, both of them. Jack didn't want to turn around, didn't want to look out over the water when he knew what was coming. But someone had to.  
  
Sure enough, there it was, the ship that was barely more than a dim shadow amidst the clouds as the wind began to pick up. Their people had never had a name for those creatures – Jack didn't know if they even had a name that human mouths could pronounce – but they knew the sound of them well enough, drilled into every child's head since they were capable of understanding; when you heard it, you were the run for cover, to get out of sight.  
  
They tended to take children: that was all they knew. Jack had found out later on that other civilisations had stories like this too, untrue but meant to frighten children into being good, and that had seemed like the most alien concept to him. The parents of the Boeshane Peninsula didn't tell their children stories like that, because the stories were all too real.  
  
And sure enough, as he turned around he saw them descend, great hulking ship half hidden by the clouds, throwing up white spray as it skimmed over the sea. There were people running on the beach, running inland. Many of them children, but some adults too, in ones and twos, or carrying smaller children on their backs. He felt dread wash over him as he watched a girl in her late teens trip and fall in the sand. He recognised her face, slightly; he couldn't remember her name though. It had been so long.  
  
But it wasn't her he was looking for. He glanced around, both wanting and not wanting to see the two boys, the older one pulling the younger one along by the hand. At this distance, he could barely tell them apart; they both looked so small, so terrified as their feet kicked up the sand.  
  
It was at that moment that Gray, beside him, turned to look too as though drawn by a magnetic force. As though he knew, and had no choice but to look. They stood side by side, staring at their younger selves.  
  
The smaller one fell down. The other kept running, swept along in the panic.

Sometimes the past was subject to change, but not here. Not today.  
  
Jack became aware that there were tears on his face, streaming down his cheeks and cooling in the rising wind, blown sand sticking to his cheeks. He darted a look to the side at Gray, as the older boy ran past them, breathing hard, nearly falling himself but carrying on.  
  
Gray's face was frozen, a terrible mask of pain, his eyes fixed on the fallen outline of the younger boy. With his sand-coloured clothes his small form was barely visible further down the beach; if he lay still, then maybe they wouldn't see him, maybe–  
  
But no; none of this was going to be different. And sure enough, there it was, the shadow sweeping down. So fast, faster than any human reflex. The child had no chance, but still he struggled and screamed and fought against it, crying out for his brother even as the insectile hooks of the creature loomed out of the gathering sea-fog and took him.  
  
Jack wanted to look away, wanted to scream himself, wanted to run to the child and pull him away from them. But he couldn't move, and besides, he knew without knowing exactly how that it would be for nothing. Whatever this was, it wasn't how it worked.  
  
And, he thought, he owed it to Gray to see it through. If his penance was to be made to watch this, then watch he would.  
  
_Gray_. He turned just as beside him, Gray fell to his knees in the sand, clutching at his head with a wrenching scream as though he'd been struck down himself. Jack was about to drop down beside him, to take him in his arms out of pure instinct, when the world twisted and rippled again, tearing itself apart in a sucking whorl of time that centred on Gray now.

As the torn edges of space-time reasserted themselves back around them, Jack thought for a moment that he had died; it was completely dark, and sometimes the senses came back in the wrong order. But no, he realised. He was still standing up, just in another place. A chill went up his spine: there was something jarringly unpleasant about this collapsing and reforming of the world around them, compared to teleportation of the familiar kind.  
  
Or maybe it was this place itself. It was like a crypt, was his first thought; high, smooth walls of something dark and unyielding, tiny square windows at a height far beyond human scale letting in near-horizontal beams of dull blue-grey light, which illuminated stripes in the cloudy air. The fog drifted slowly through the light, eerily silent, the air thick with a heavy, choking chemical smell covering something that smelled all too much like human blood, sickness and effluent and just a hint of rotting flesh. The humidity was cloying, suffocating as the smell.  
  
He glanced at Gray; he could barely see his face in the dim light, just the planes of it, and two pinprick reflections in his eyes.  
  
The realisation hit him with a chill; if before they had been in a shared memory, then this must be Gray's memory alone.  
  
And then he heard a sound from the dark in front of them. A shifting, followed by the soft clink of metal, loud in the dead silence. Jack's hand went automatically for his gun, which wasn't there. His other hand had reached out to grasp Gray's forearm, putting himself in front of his brother without having to think about it. But Gray pushed past him, walking towards the sound.  
  
"What is this place?" Jack wondered aloud. His voice felt too loud in the silence, and he winced at the sound of it.  
  
Gray turned over his shoulder to look at him for a moment before replying. "Storage."  
  
Jack was about ask what he meant when he heard another noise from right in front of them. And this time it was unmistakably human.  
  
A quiet whimper, barely audible. He walked forward towards it, unthinking, but Gray put a hand in front of him, blocking his path forward.  
  
But not before Jack saw what was there.  
  
A body. Many, in fact, all tangled up close together. Small.  
  
Children.  
  
And they were dead. He knew this in the way one knew certain facts within a dream, as pre-establised truths. But even if he hadn't, the smell of rotting flesh would have told him as much.  
  
No, not all dead. Some were alive, he saw now; here and there, a small motion, a weak shifting in the dark. Quiet, rippling breaths in the filthy air.

Gray had paused in front of one living child in particular, and Jack went to his side, forcing himself to look. The dim light reflected off a head of matted curls.  
  
And Jack let out his breath in a gasp as he recognised his brother, the child. About fifteen years old, not an age Jack had known him at.

But even if he had, he was only barely recognisable. Pitifully thin, covered in filth, a seeping wound across half his jaw and down the side of his neck. Red and so swollen it changed the way his features sat on his face, which was sheened with a layer of sweat. Eyes bright and unfocused with fever, almost too weak to move his head. Chained between two rotting corpses.  
  
Jack watched as Gray – adult Gray, standing beside him – raised a hand to the brand on his cheek, as though unaware of what he was doing.

“Gray...” said Jack, certain he’d regret it. “What did they do here?” He had to know. But at the same time, some part of him hoped his brother would lash out at him, strike him down again here and now.

To his surprise, Gray spoke softly, still staring down at his past self. “They... forgot us” he murmured. “There were so many prisoners. They could afford to let some die.” He made a choking sound in his throat.

“What...” Jack knelt down, reaching out a hand to the child. “What were they going to do?”

“I don’t know” said Gray, slowly. “Never found out what they did with... the ones they took out of here.”

Jack swallowed, face wet with tears again. As he reached out, the boy on the ground looked up at him, eyes going wide and fearful. Flinching away. “ _No!_ ”

Jack wondered if the boy could see them, or whether he was just delirious, seeing horrors amid his fever. Hard to tell, but he thought the latter. That voice, thin and childish, cut through the silence. Instantly Jack pulled back, heart racing.

Because behind them, there was another sound.

From outside.

A roaring, gurgling sound, interspersed with clicking. Getting closer.

“It’s them” rasped Gray from behind him. “What’ve you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” said Jack, voice rising in panic.

“This wasn’t how it was! They didn’t...” he broke off, voice breaking with fury and terror. “They forgot me!” They both stared at the child in front of them, who had gone still as a cornered animal, silent in his chains and staring at the two of them.

“Gray!” shouted Jack, reaching out to his brother to calm him down – was it his imagination or had the child winced at the sound of the name? – but Gray pulled away. “It’s okay, it’s not real, it’s just a memory...” his heart was breaking, for the little boy whose fate was already sealed. “It can’t be changed now.”

“No!” Gray screamed. The sounds from outside were growing louder, the air in the chamber stirring. “No, it’s happening again, it’s you, it’s–”  
  
“Stop!” Jack grasped Gray’s sleeve, fingers twisting in the fabric, trying to hold on. “I can get us out of it, I can help–” he pressed his eyes closed, clinging on to Gray’s arm until he could barely feel his fingers anymore. The child was screaming too now, the sound drilling into his mind as he forced himself to concentrate. If this was Gray’s memory they’d been pulled into, then surely all he had to do to get them out was to pull them into one of his own…

But the screams and the roaring outside reaching deafening levels were distracting. He tried to focus on home, on Torchwood. But it kept slipping away, the idea of it too far away to touch.

But there was something else; something that was always there on the edge of his mind, something that blazed with light, and pain, but a clean sort of burning. Incandescent.

He saw light as the world crumpled around him and Gray once more, sending them whirling through whatever space of raw thought there was in between memories and time.

And then they were somewhere else.

Jack blinked in the harsh red light after the darkness. And then stifled a gasp, biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the iron tang of blood.  
  
They were in a narrow corridor and there was a shining golden light, consuming the form of a dalek. Mechanical screams drilled into his consciousness as he clung even harder to Gray’s arm.

Because that wasn’t even what Jack was looking at. All he could look at was the body slumped in the corner, a man dressed in a white shirt and black vest, carrying a gun. Dead on the floor, even as the dalek that had killed him burned.

Himself.

Gray was staring too, eyes wide in the harsh light.

A gasp, a spasm in the body of the man in front of them, making them both draw in sharp breaths at once. Jack pulled Gray to the side; he’d almost felt that, or maybe it was the ghost of it, written into his consciousness in an indelible hand.

The first time he’d died, and the first time he’d come back.

Alone.

There was no one else in the corridor. The version of Jack in front of them seemed dazed, seemed not to see them. But he remembered how it had felt so clearly. Being left alone, though the man on the floor didn’t know it yet. Jack watched as he blinked and gasped, utterly disorientated. He felt a little lightheaded himself just from the memory. He grasped Gray’s arm. It had been a bad idea, using the box; he should have known better. If the others had been there, they would have told him so.

But they weren’t, and now the two of them were here, and all he could do was try to concentrate on his own memories. To try to take them away from the man in the corner, just pulling himself to his unsteady feet and into a strange new eternal life.

He had to try to focus on where he wanted to go. Back to the Cardiff. Back to Torchwood.

 _Home_.

This time when the world broke apart, the sound was mingled with another; the crackle of electricity, and the sound of someone screaming.

 _Oh_. Torchwood, certainly, but not the Torchwood of today.

In the middle of the room was a chair, and strapped to the chair was Jack himself, screaming and convulsing as he was electrocuted. Alice and Emily stood beside him, watching dispassionately as he gasped for breath, their backs turned to the two of them.

Jack winced. _Not here_. Somehow he didn’t want Gray to see this part of his life. He held on to his brother’s arm again, beginning to get used to the process of pulling the two of them out of the world, if not controlling where they ended up.

He hoped it was somewhere very different to here. He hoped it was somewhere kind.

And, for just a moment, it was.

The two of them were standing on the narrow balcony of a fire-escape, metal clinging to bricks on the outside of a building. At the end of the street, the New York City skyline stretched out in the sunrise, tendrils of smoke climbing into the pale sky.

Beside them there was a window, and on the other side of the window stood two men. One, the shorter and slighter, wore a shirt that hung open at the front, peering out through the window with eyes that were achingly familiar to Jack, face lit by a strip of early morning sunlight. As they watched, another man came up closer behind him, taller, bare-chested, arms settling contentedly around his waist, leaning over his shoulder and dropping a kiss on his temple.

The sight of his own face, and Angelo in his arms, made him draw in a sharp breath. He watched as Angelo pulled them back into the room, out of the window; he didn’t need to hear to imagine his voice. _Jack, stop it! People will see!_

It had been so long. He found himself backing away, against the steel railing. _No, not here. Not this part_. Because just as before, he knew what was coming next, even before the railing gave way beneath his grip.

He only just managed to grasp Gray’s hand as the whole rickety platform began to fall into a funnel of time that sucked them down, down to the lower levels of the building. A plastered room formed around them, the floor awash with blood.

And there was Jack again, chained up by his wrists, body more wounds than whole and unbroken flesh. He winced, realising he was still holding on to Gray’s hand when he squeezed it too hard. The room was filled with people, the air dense and humid with body heat and the smell of blood, strong enough to be nauseating.

As they watched, a woman stepped forward and took a long, serrated butcher’s knife to the chest of that other version of him, slashing previous wounds back open before they could heal. She was raising a bottle to catch the blood, muttering something repetitive to herself, though her voice was lost amongst the clamour of the others that filled the cramped little basement room.

Jack tried to pull his hand away from Gray’s. But, he found, he couldn’t let go; Gray was trembling, still grasping his hand where Jack had taken his, with a grip like a vice. They watched as the crowd surged forward. In the corner, they saw Angelo start to push his way through the crowd, head down to hide the tears he couldn’t force back.

And then the world was crumpling out of being around them again; Jack had a moment of panic, spiraling as they were tossed by the tides of time and memory, as he realised that it wasn’t him that had done it.

But when they came to a halt, he realised; no, of course he had not brought them here.

Gray had.

He looked at his brother; they were still holding hands. “Y-you...” he began.

“That was a bad place.” Gray was not looking at him, but there was tension in his stance, in every line of his body, as his eyes flickered about them. His voice nearly cracked. “I had to get us out.”

 _Us_. Jack took a deep breath, nodded, trying to collect himself. “Thank you.”

“ _Don’t_.”

“Okay. Sorry.” He suppressed the urge to fall to his knees and cry, or break something, concentrating on starting to look around him. “Where are we?”

Gray didn’t answer. Jack turned around, taking in the landscape; the ruins of a compound, or a fortress of some sort. There were bodies everywhere, human and otherwise, all too butchered to identify. The buildings had been leveled, tumbled piles of broken stone littering the ground.

“Gray, what happened here?” asked Jack. He almost didn’t want to hear, but he felt he had to know.

To his surprise, Gray answered. “There was a revolt” he said, voice flat, uninflected. “Some of the prisoners that were left alive. They got together and tried to fight their way out.”

“And the creatures...they killed the rebels?”

“They fought back, at first.” Gray’s voice was hollow. “When they got tired of fighting, they collapsed the buildings with us inside. Both those who fought, and those who didn't. Like I said. They had enough prisoners.”

“How long?” Jack asked, voice hushed. “How long were you trapped under the rubble?”

“I think... five days. And then...”

Gray raised his head, and Jack followed his gaze. He could see something moving between some broken walls not far off. He was about to go for his gun, when he recognised a flash of a red jacket, bright against the dull greys and browns, heard the familiar whirring of a vortex manipulator scanning the area.

And John Hart stepped back into their line of sight, hefting aside some wreckage.

“We talked, later on” said Gray shortly, as they watched John shift the fallen debris. “About you.”

Jack’s heart sank. He remembered the days, the nights, he’d had with John. They hadn’t really talked much about their pasts – it was assumed that most time agents had something they were running from, it was just how things were – except that sometimes, they had. Specifically, Jack remembered sharing a bottle of liquor and talking about it for once; it had felt so _good_ to tell someone about Gray, about his guilt. It almost hadn’t mattered that it had been John, as opposed to anybody else.

Beside, Jack had almost trusted him, then.

And now he watched as John dragged Gray from the rubble, undoing the shackles on his wrists that bound him to the mangled corpses on either side.

They watched, as John pulled Gray to his feet; the two weren’t letting each other out of their line of direct sight, both suspicious, circling. Gray looked weak, hollowed out and emaciated from his time under the rubble. He looked too frail to run very far, let alone to fight, but John was treating him with utmost caution. Jack thought he understood as he caught a glimpse of Gray’s eyes, filled with the wildness and desperation of a man who thinks he has nothing in the world left to lose.

And then John reached forward and took Gray’s arm, activating his vortex manipulator to take the two away in a flash of light.

Jack and Gray were left alone in the wreckage, silent but for the light wind whistling amongst the broken stones.

“You trusted him?” Jack asked.

“ _Trust?_ ” Gray’s voice was scornful. “I didn’t remember the concept, then.”

 _A_ _nd_ _now?_ Jack wanted to ask, but didn’t dare; if there was any progress here, it was too fragile.

“Take a look around, Javic” continued Gray, bitterly. “What other option did I have but to die?”

Jack sighed. “Point taken.” But then he heard a rumbling, as though of distant thunder. He looked up at the horizon, eyes widening in realisation. “Gray!” he said. “That was the last of your memory of this place. The projection must be collapsing. We gotta go, _now_!”

Sure enough, on the horizon time and space was beginning to warp and unravel, a horrible screaming and sucking noise as the collapse spread like an avalanche, gaining speed. Gray started running, still dragging him by the hand; they hadn’t let go yet. Jack gritted his teeth, trying to feel for another memory as he ran, jumping over rubble as the collapse gained on them. Some thread of something that felt like home...but he couldn’t, he couldn’t reach it, not quite, not in time...

And then he was running in another place, running in the whirling time vortex itself. He no longer knew if Gray was beside him, his whole mind burning from the inside with it. He was grasping, reaching out to... something. Something was there, and he was being pulled in a certain direction, far across the universe, and–

–And sensation returned, sharp and painful as he collapsed against a wall at his back, smacking his head hard against flat wood.

 _Wood?_ He looked around, seeing Gray beside him also leaning against the blue-painted surface.

Familiar.

The Tardis. Jack bit his lip, starting to guess where they were.

Sure enough, he peered around the edge of the Tardis to see the Doctor standing over Jack’s own body, Martha on her knees in the dirt beside him.

The end of the universe.

He watched himself wake, taking them both by surprise. Gray was peering over his shoulder now, and they both watched together as the Doctor stared down at Jack, his face closed, distant.

Jack leaned back against the wall of the Tardis, out of sight, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I waited so long. Then I left Torchwood to go to him” he said. “All the way across the universe.”

They both watched the coolness in the Doctor’s expression, as that other Jack got to his feet. “He left you” said Gray, unexpectedly. There was that frown on his face, again. “He didn’t come back for you.”

Jack laughed, bitterly. “For a while, yeah. But it doesn’t matter.” He looked at Gray. “He was there when I needed him. Just recently. He saved my team. He helped me save you.”

Gray’s eyes darted for a moment. “Is _that_ what you think you’ve done?”

“Yeah” said Jack firmly. “Yeah, if you’re willing to be saved. Or even if you’re not, I’ll still do my best.”

Gray glared at him, about to speak. Then he suddenly looked away, grasping Jack’s arm. “Something’s coming” he said.

“We should leave” said Jack, seeing his past self begin to walk away with Martha and the Doctor. He didn’t envy him what lay ahead. But he couldn’t help him, not here, not–

But before he could think further, the world collapsed again, and for a split second, the void echoed with cruel laughter. And then the world came back, almost overwhelming; bright-coloured lights, and chains.  
  
And Jack, chained up in the middle of the space.

And the Master, watching from behind the steel grilles and laughing to himself as electricity sparked, making Jack’s body shudder and spasm. There were fresh bruises there too, and shiny, seeping burns. Once again Jack winced; he tried to not to remember that year, but being here was bringing it all back in full clarity. He watched his past self slump, hanging dead in his chains.

“Come on, chop chop” said the Master, tapping his fingers on the bars. “You’re my favourite toy, you know – well. Maybe second favourite – but the in-between bits do get _so_ boring.”

They both watched as Jack gasped back to life, only to be killed again. And again.

A whole year of this; the fact that it had been written out of time didn’t make it any easier.

“So yeah. I guess you’re starting to see, you weren’t the first person to have the idea of killing me over and over” he told Gray, for want of something to say. Unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Gray’s face fell. “How did you survive?”

“Hah. Guess you could say I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“No, I mean... how did you stay...” Gray’s face twisted. “Never mind.”

“Ah, sorry. I know what you meant.” Jack sighed, fingers grasping onto the outside grille as the two of them watched the Master press the button again, the prison illuminated with sparks, the air torn by screams. “I survived by thinking of home. Of my team.” He gave a soft laugh. “Don’t know where I’d be without them.” He remembered clinging to every good memory he had in that place, dying over and over for a year. Those moments were the most precious thing he'd had, and in fact, pretty much the _only_ thing he'd had, and he clung to them desperately; laughing over pizza with the team in the Hub, the smell of the ocean and the cold wind when he looked down at the Bay. Holding his newborn daughter for the first time. Each of his lovers over the years, the ones that were gone now. And one who wasn’t, yet; he remembered thinking a lot about Ianto in those long, empty hours. Their kisses and their nights together, the fragile, unnamed thing between them that had seemed like it would almost certainly come to nothing, from where he was standing then.

Thinking about how even if he somehow got back to Ianto, if by some miracle the world came out of this intact, there was still no reason to think Ianto would forgive him for running away without a word. Thinking that maybe he would be right not to. But then, in that place even the possibility had seemed distant and theoretical, and so Jack had only had his memories to keep him from losing everything that made him who he was. Selfish, perhaps, but he had to work with what he had.

He looked at Gray, and realisation came to him, forceful and sudden. “You...you never had anything like that” said Jack, softly. “There was only...”

“Only hatred. Only anger” said Gray, his voice hollow as they listened to Jack scream again in the cage in front of them. “Yeah.”

Jack hesitated only a moment more before pulling Gray into a hug. If he expected him to resist it was only for a moment, tense with the shock of gentleness after so long. And then – almost to Jack’s surprise – he felt Gray’s arms come up around his back, face buried in his shoulder. His back began to shake with silent tears, and Jack felt himself crying too; part of him was still waiting for the knife in his stomach again, the killing blow, the betrayal. But this time it didn’t come.

Instead the world was melting away again, that bright torture chamber filled with steel and electricity. But the change was gentler this time; it felt less like being wrenched out of space and time and more like falling slowly through the dark, holding onto each other all the way.

And then they were in another new place. Or... no, Jack realised. Not a new place.

A familiar place. Back where they had started.

They stood side by side on a sandy beach, hand in hand. Jack looked over at Gray, and–

 _Oh_.

He looked down at himself, disorientated; his body felt wrong, strange and ill-proportioned. He hadn’t changed in so long, was the thing.

Not that this was completely unfamiliar. Because he had been here before. He was a child again, on the cusp of adolescence, and Gray was a child too, younger and holding his hand. The age they'd been when they'd seen each other last.

They were standing on the beach looking out to the vast ocean, the waves sending white spray into the sunset sky.

But even as they looked out to sea clouds were moving over the sun; there was something on the horizon, Jack saw. Gray had realised it at almost the same moment, and again their child’s eyes met, hands clasping tighter.

A great wave, moving impossibly fast. Jack remembered, from his training with the Time Agency, learning about planets that were ocean across their whole surfaces, with waves miles high. He’d never seen one himself, and their planet didn’t have the gravitational field for it, nowhere near. But here, in this memory, or dream, or whatever this was... his eyes met Gray’s once again.

“ _Run!_ ” he whispered, voice thin and cracking. Gray didn’t hesitate; a moment later, they were running, hand in hand. The wave was close to the beach now, with the strange, distorted logic of a dream, and it was gaining, coming up and subsuming the houses on the peninsula. There were other people running too, a man and a woman they could barely see as more than vague outlines, one on either side of them. But Jack knew who they were. The wave was at their heels now, and it had caught up their parents in it, pulling even those shadowy presences into its cold saltwater depths.

And then it hit their backs, the physical impact of it knocking his breath away. It was cold, colder than the shallow water near the beach, and it picked the two of them up with overwhelming force, impossible to fight against.

But their hands were joined, and Jack held on with a fierce grip, summoning all the strength in his weak limbs to keep clinging on for much, much more than his own life. It was dark under the water, and impossible to tell which way was up as the forces inside the ocean swell wrenched at both of them, trying to pull them apart. But they held on, both hands meeting in the icy saltwater. He could taste it on his tongue, the salt of the sea. It tasted like home, like starting again.

It stung his eyes too, and what little light there was began to grow dark. Of course; no air beneath the ocean. He felt a touch of fear as he realised they would drown here. Even him; he was a child again, he wasn’t immortal yet. He pulled Gray close to him, ready to swim, to pull them both to safety. But it was too hard, his body felt like it was melting away to numbness in the cold, everything he was washing away with it, tossed by the current.

 _And then_ –

And then there they were, both on their knees in the cell. Back in their adult bodies just as they had been, though panting and soaked with saltwater; Jack could taste its salt on his tongue. Though maybe that was also the tears dampening his cheeks. Both hands clasped together, hard enough to bruise, and between them was the box, lying open. Around them, a puddle of water and damp sand, filling the floor of the cell.

Gray raised his head, gasping for air, and their eyes met for a long moment without words.

He heard a clinking between them, realising two things; first, that Gray’s hands were shaking in his, or maybe it was his own. And second, that Gray was still wearing handcuffs. He wasted no time in fishing the key out of his coat pocket. They clattered to the ground between them, the sound loud in the silent cell.

Gray looked up at him. The blood on his head had started to coagulate, seeping down and drying in the crease above his eye. Jack wondered how long they’d been gone.

Between them sat the box, about half-filled with the same mixture of water and sand that covered the floor.

Jack reached for it a little hesitantly. But nothing happened when he touched it, when he closed the lid with a decisive click, putting it aside.

“It’s...over” he said to Gray, taking both his hands again. “We’re home.”

Even as he spoke, Jack heard the outer door of the cells explode open behind him. Gray flinched, freezing still as in ran Gwen, Tosh, Owen, and Ianto, guns at the ready. They seemed to freeze too as they took in the wide-open cell door, the discarded handcuffs, Jack and Gray kneeling on the ground in a pool of sandy water. Between them, the box.

“Jack…! Are you alright?” asked Ianto, a little breathless.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Lovely to hear it. Then, do you want to explain exactly what’s been going on here?” he asked, as the four of them exchanged nonplussed looks. Ianto and Tosh had lowered their guns, but not entirely. Gwen and Owen were still on guard.

“Yes, I’ll explain everything” said Jack, finally letting go of Gray to raise his hands. “But can you stop pointing those guns at us? Everything’s fine. In fact, things should start to be better now.”

There was a question in his words, that he hadn’t wholly intended to put there. But when he looked at him Gray nodded slightly. “Yes” he said, voice still rough from disuse. “I hope so, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun things to do with your sibling: vividly relive your various traumatic experiences together as a bonding exercise??? 
> 
> (.......Me? Using vague excuses to basically rewrite most of Gray's character because I simply Do Not Like most of his canon characterisation? It's more likely than you think!)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite the fact that it was a bit darker and angstier than the previous ones. As I mentioned, originally chapters 3 and 4 were one long chapter, but it got...too long, and makes more sense as two anyway, I think. But the side effect is, perhaps, that you get all the angst in one go, so sorry about that. They're right though; things should get better again soon! ...Anyway. In either the next chapter or the one after there will be a bit of a time skip, however, there are some Things I want to happen first, with certain other characters :)))
> 
> Let me know what you think, and/or come join me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe!


	5. Chapter 5

_**[Several days later]** _

Ianto was in a queue for ice cream, the moment the sky began to turn to poison.

Ianto didn’t actually like ice cream much. But Mica and David did, and after all, what else did one do on a nice sunny day on the waterfront but buy ice cream for his niece and nephew he hadn’t seen in far too long?

It was Ianto’s day off, after all. Not that it was going exactly to plan.

The poison was thick and white and it was coming from the ice cream van’s exhaust. It only took a quick look at the road nearby to see it coming from all the other car exhausts too, and only a moment more to make the connection to Atmos.

“Uncle Ianto, what’s that smoke?” said Mica, tugging on the hem of his jacket. “It smells nasty.”

Even out here the air was beginning to thicken, the acrid taste of it coating the back of his throat. David was already coughing.

“It’s...” Ianto gritted his teeth, looking between the children, then out at the road where cars horns were blaring over each other, pedestrians fleeing from the gushing fumes. Ianto glanced down at his phone. He had set up Rift alerts on it – and never mind what Jack would say about it being his day off – but there was nothing. That was not as encouraging as it should have been.  
  
On the other side of the railing was the bay, and there were people running towards the water, anywhere to get away from the road. _What did they planning on doing?_ he wondered nervously. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to that way.

Not for them, came the thought.

His eyes were watering as he knelt down in front of Mica and David, holding their hands in his.

And made a decision.

“Mica. David. Look at me” he said. “We’re going to play a game, okay? We’re going to run, and you’re going to need to hold your breath as much as possible. Try not to breathe that stuff in, and we’re going to run as fast as we can.” Ianto winced as David carried on coughing. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his nephew’s face like a scarf.

“What is this stuff?” sniffed David, voice muffled behind it.

“I... I don’t know” said Ianto. “But we’re going to a place where we can find out.”

And with that, he grabbed their hands and began to run.

* * *

Today was supposed to be quiet, was the thing. No Rift activity forecast, and so he’d chosen this day for his day off. As they ran he thought back several days before, after the four of them had come back to find Jack and Gray kneeling in a cell together, along with what looked like most of a tide pool.

As the others had demanded explanations, Ianto had picked up the wooden box, poured out the water and sand, and taken it away to put back in the secure archives. He’d walked mechanically, a little numb with the leftover adrenaline, the sound of raised voices ringing in his head as he left them behind in the cells.

When he came back up to the main level of the Hub Jack was pacing in his office, doing up his cufflinks after having changed out of his wet clothes.

His eyes flicked across to meet Ianto’s when he entered the room. “Everything back to normal?”

“I don’t know, Jack. Is it?”

Jack sighed. “You’re angry at me.”

“No.”

“Well, you’re _something_ at me. I’m sorry, I know you were having a nice night off with the others at Gwen’s. You only came back because of me.”

“It’s not that.”

“So? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Ianto shrugged. “Not my place to offer unsolicited advice.”

“Not exactly unsolicited... I’m asking you!” Jack gritted his teeth, then seemed to soften a little. “And not as boss to employee, either. I’m asking what _you_ think, Ianto. As my...” he tailed off and gestured between the two of them, as though to take in the nebulous notion of _whatever we are_. The air grew a little more tense between them, and Jack seemed to realise it too, looking at Ianto carefully; that was almost worse. He didn’t like to be so scrutinised, least of all right now.

Besides, it wasn’t that they hadn’t put a name on it before; the word _boyfriend_ had crossed both of their lips, though Ianto still wasn’t sure to what extent Jack meant it seriously. And even then, he wasn’t sure if it fit quite right, outside of the moment.

“As your _private c_ _onfidante_ ” he said, deadpan, “I would say...” he broke off, unsure if he wanted to start this conversation right now.

“What?” Jack opened his hands, palms out. “Lay it on me, Mister Private Confidante.”

Ianto folded his arms, glaring. Well, if Jack wanted to be told what he really thought then this time he would take him at his word. “You do know that was a stupid thing you did, don’t you? Bloody stupid and reckless. We had _no_ idea what that box did.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I would say I had a pretty good hunch.”

“ _Bullshit_ , Jack. You knew it was something to do with telepathy, and beyond that? Nothing! You said so yourself. The archive notes are a few vague bullet points long, and you decided it would be a good idea to activate it in the Hub, with only your emotionally unstable brother for backup, who – oh yes! – tried to murder us all a few weeks ago.”

“Well, what do you think I should have done?” Jack retorted, clearly forcing down his frustration. “Tell me, Ianto, what _you_ would have done.”

“I wouldn’t have taken an unknown and possibly dangerous artifact out to use on my own, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, _wouldn’t_ you?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Jack, to his credit, seemed to realise it almost immediately. But still Ianto felt himself freeze up from the lungs outwards, face going blank and impassive a moment later. “If that was a reference to what happened with Lisa” he said, slipping desperately into cold detachment to counter the pain starting in his chest, “then I don’t have anything else to say to you right now.” And with that he turned on his heel, starting to leave.

“Ianto!” Jack caught his arm. Ianto let himself be held in place, but turned back and regarded Jack with a chilly glare. “...You’re...you’re right.” Jack let go and ran a hand through his hair, and Ianto caught the way it trembled, just a little. “I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot, and I know it.”

Ianto inclined his head. “I would agree you can do much better.”

“You know I forgave you for that a long time ago, right?”

“Obviously, since I’m still here, and I appear to have kept all my memories.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Just...” he gestured, letting go of Ianto’s sleeve. Ianto made no move to leave. Jack gave a sad little laugh. “Weird night.”

Ianto sighed. Now that he looked at Jack – properly looked at him – he could see the weariness in him, the shadows under his eyes. “I know” he said. These few last weeks had taken their toll on Jack, anyone could see it. “What’s going to happen now?” he asked. “With Gray?”

Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair again. “I’ve been thinking of finding another room in the Hub for him. Somewhere in the lower levels, maybe, where there’s space. He shouldn’t be in a cell, not after everything.”

“Is he safe? For the others, I mean.”

“...I think so” said Jack. “I don’t think he’ll try to hurt anyone again now.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “You don’t _think_ so?”

Jack looked pained, but his voice was filled with determination. “I’m making a judgement call” he said. “I’m choosing to trust him.”

“You might get some pushback from some of the others for that. He did shoot Tosh.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped a little. “I know. But like I said. I’m in charge, and I’m making a call. I don’t think it’ll put the team in danger. It shouldn’t.”

“I understand. I was just warning you.”

Jack nodded, looking at him carefully. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“That pushback you mentioned, from _some people_. That include you?”

Ianto thought for a moment, about forgiveness in all its forms. “I trust your judgement, Jack. And if you trust him, then...well. Like I said, I trust _you_.”

Jack nodded and laid a hand on Ianto’s arm again, the gesture full of gratitude beyond what he had words to express. He smiled, faintly. “Sorry about that evening off you were supposed to have.”

“It’s okay.”

“You should take a day soon, to make up for it.” Jack paused. “How long’s it been since you saw your family?”

Ianto thought about it. “A few months” he admitted.

“You should see them” said Jack quietly, though his eyes weren’t quite focused on Ianto. “It’s important. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Ianto looked down at the desk; it felt almost rude to stare at Jack right now, the raw emotion on his face. Ianto wondered if he knew. “Well... okay. Yeah. Maybe I will.”

* * *

And so a few days later, he had. And here he was, running from toxic fumes, right back to the Hub.

With his sister’s children.

Ianto’s train of thought was interrupted by his phone ringing. He gritted his teeth as he saw the contact name, and nearly dropped it as he tucked it under his chin, grabbing David’s hand again. He didn’t want to let go of either of them, not until this was done.

“Rhiannon–”

“Ianto! What’s going on? Where are you, and what the bloody hell is–”

“I don’t know. I–”

“Oh, god, are you out in the city centre still? Stay away from the cars, please, please keep them away from the roads... it’s poison, they’re saying on the news.”

He took a deep breath, not wanting to say anything that would scare David and Mica. “Listen, Rhiannon, there’s somewhere nearby, somewhere they’ll be safe–”

“Where?” she demanded, her voice breaking on a panicked sob down the phone, “they’re saying it’s everywhere, every car! Ianto, _my_ car has Atmos, so does yours, they all do! Where’s safe?”

“The place I work” he said, “it’s nearby, I can get them there... my boss won’t mind.” He frowned. It wasn’t that he thought Jack _would_ mind, but still. “They’ll be safe for a few hours until we can – until this is fixed. After that–”

“Fixed? _Fixed?_ What makes you think–”

“Rhiannon, there’s no time to explain, just bloody _listen_ to me!”

“Alright, alright. No need to be like that.”

“Thanks. Now, I promise David and Mica will be safe. But you and Johnny need to seal the house, as much as you can. Towels in the cracks under the door, make sure all the windows are locked shut, that sort of thing. Don’t forget the kitchen vent.” Ianto had to stop talking to cough as he inhaled a little too fast. His eyes were watering. “Oh, and if you have time can you phone the hospital and check on mum? Make sure they’re also sealed in while you’re at it. And don’t worry about the children; I’ll look after them.”

“I swear to god Ianto, if anything happens to them–”

“I promise, nothing will.”

He heard Rhiannon take a breath, collect herself. “Okay. Okay. That’s Johnny coming back now, I’ll tell him...”

“I’ll leave you to it. Give my love to mum.”

“Give mine to the kids. And… take care of yourself. Please?”

“I will. Bye, Rhiannon.”

“Bye Ianto.”

And with that, he ended the call. He frowned down at David, pausing to adjust the jacket wrapped around his face. Mica had pulled up the collar of her jumper around her mouth and nose, was squeezing her eyes shut. He pulled them both close. “Your mum sends her love” he said. “Now, we’re going to start running again, okay? It’s not far, but we’re going to have to be quick. Now, I need to make another phone call...” he stood up and began moving again, his thumb hovered for a moment over the call button before pressing it.

Jack answered after the first ring, sounding both distracted and deeply relieved. “Ianto. Where are you?”

“Waterfront. Jack, I’m on my way to the Hub–”

“Good. Sorry about your day off and everything, but Tosh is waiting for my order to go into lockdown, seal the air circulation system. We can wait a few minutes for you, but any longer than that, we risk the toxin flooding the outer vents–”

“I understand” said Ianto, tugging Mica back to her feet as she risked tripping. “But Jack. I just want to warn you, I’m bringing–”

A klaxon started blaring on the other end of the line, and Ianto heard Jack shout an order to the others. “Tell me later” said Jack. “In the meantime, get your ass in here where it’s safe. I’m gonna try and get UNIT on the phone again. And also see what can be done about saving the planet, since no one else seems to be.”

“All in a day’s work. Jack, do you know – is this the Rift? Is it just Cardiff, or…?”

“Don’t think so. Not to worry you, but we think this is something much bigger. Seems to be worldwide. Still trying to figure it out though.”

“Right.” Ianto’s heart sank, very aware of his promise to Rhiannon. “Be there soon. But, Jack, listen, I’ve got to tell you–”

“Oh, that’s the Home Secretary on the other line. Sorry Ianto, it’s gonna have to wait. See you in five minutes and not a _second_ more, hear me?”

“Yes, but–”

The connection closed on him. He sighed, bending down to catch his breath for a moment and adjust the scarf around David’s mouth and nose. The children had it worse; the fog was thicker close to the ground, and Ianto found his eyes watering with it, tears wetting his cheeks. He gritted his teeth, forcing back the cough and glancing between the two children, giving them a look that he hoped conveyed more confidence than he felt. “Come on, we’re nearly there” he said. “Just a little bit further, then we’re safe.” It wasn’t far; he could see the Millennium Centre now through the pale haze of toxic fog. His throat ached, and for a moment he exploded into a fit of coughing, his head reeling. _No, no_. He had to carry on, had to make it to Torchwood.

Mica was dropping behind so Ianto reached down and scooped her up in his arms, balancing her weight on one side; she was still just light enough for him to carry, but she had grown since he’d last tried. He stroked David’s hair with his free hand, then grasped his hand tightly. “We’re going to have to run, okay? Just a little way. But I’m going to get you both somewhere safe, somewhere we can wait this out.”

“I’m scared, uncle Ianto.”

He kissed Mica’s temple. “I know. I’m scared too. But I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. I promise.”

David was coughing, muffled by the scarf, but he looked up at Ianto as they began to run. “Wh-where’re we going?”

“Shh, shh, save your breath. It’s just...” he turned a corner, hugging the railing, as far away from the road as he could get, for what difference it made, “just up here, not far now...”

Mica tucked her face into his shoulder, arms clinging tight around his neck as she sobbed into his jacket. He gritted his teeth, fighting the burn in his eyes and nose and in the back of his throat, trying to breathe as little as possible as he reached Mermaid Quay and ran down the steps, the door of the tourist office in front of him. Once inside, he put Mica down and stumbled behind the desk, keying in his security code and opening the door.

The air was clearer in here, but still Mica pressed her face into his side, clinging on to him. He held her and David close as they passed through the cog door and into the Hub. He heard David gasp, face tipped back to look up at the ceiling high above, yelling in alarm as Myfanwy flew overhead. At that, even Mica took a peek, peering up with reddened eyes through her fingers.

But before he had time to say anything, Gwen was running up to him.  
  
“Ianto! Thank god you made it... okay, I’ll let Jack and Tosh know we’re all clear to–” she broke off, eyes widening as she saw the two children. “Uh. Ianto?”

He swayed, still slightly lightheaded from the poison outside. “Gwen, this is Mica and David, my sister’s kids. Children, this is my friend Gwen. We work together. She’s going to help me look after you until it’s safe to go home.” He gave Gwen an imploring look. “Aren’t you?”

Neither of the children said anything, both still staring in shock at their surroundings, and a little in fear at Gwen, who, in fairness, had just come running up and started shouting.

But now she bent down in front of them. “Of course I am... listen, darlings, we’re going to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

Mica tugged on Ianto’s hand. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you home as soon as I can” said Ianto, watching Gwen fuss over David, taking the jacket off him so he could breathe clearer.

“What about mum and dad?” asked David. “Are they gonna be okay?”

Ianto exchanged a look with Gwen. “They’ll be fine” he said, trying to force himself to believe it. The estate was out of the city centre traffic at least, so it should be a little better. And surely Rhiannon and Johnny would be able to wait it out. He had to trust that they would.

“We can ask Tosh to check in on the estate CCTV if you want” said Gwen, quietly.

Ianto paused for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m sure she’s got better things to do. And I can help… I thought I’d leave the children in the boardroom, and then I can–”

“Gwen!” came Jack’s voice, across the space. “Is that Ianto I hear you talking to?” Ianto grasped the children’s hands tightly and exchanged a look with Gwen as Jack bounded down the stairs, “if so, Tosh, initiate full lockdown of the ventilation systems. Owen! Run a scan on the chemical composition of the samples we got from the vents before shutdown, and try to extrapolate its biological effects. Oh, and maybe try Martha again, will you? She hasn’t been picking up my calls, but maybe you’ll have more luck. Call her personal mobile, UNIT switchboard’s in chaos and I don’t trust them to share their information. I need to check in with Gray on the in the lower levels, tell him there’s an emergency but we’re dealing with it. But before that, Ianto! Come help me with–” Jack paused at the top of the stairs. “Oh.” He looked at Ianto and Gwen, then at Mica and David, and then back at Ianto again. “Some unexpected guests to introduce?”

Ianto forced a smile as the wails of the warning klaxons sounded around him, signifying the beginning of lockdown. “Mica, David. Jack.” He instinctively pulled them closer, arms around their shoulders as Mica put her hands over her ears. The lights were beginning to flash red, and he could understand her feeling overwhelmed; he was beginning to feel it a little himself, his heart still racing from their run along the waterfront.

Jack came down the stairs, standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. “Pleased to meet you, kids. Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry there’s no time for a proper introduction, but this is an emergency.”

“Are you in the army?” asked David, peering up under from Ianto’s jacket still wrapped half around his face. “Is that a real gun? What is this place? Is uncle Ianto really actually a spy who works for MI5?”

“Is that a real dinosaur?” chimed in Mica.

And to Ianto’s surprise, Jack laughed, sitting down on the lower steps so he was at the children’s height. “Questions, questions. The answers are: used to be; yes; a secret underground base; I hope not because he’s got a lot of information on me; and yes. A pteranodon, actually. Your uncle’s got a lot of hidden talents, up to and including catching dinosaurs. His secret weapon? Chocolate.” Jack gave them a conspiratorial wink and Mica giggled, relaxing slightly against Ianto’s side.

“Jack...”

Jack looked at Ianto, getting to his feet. “Guess I found out what you were planning to tell me later.”

Ianto cringed a little. “I was taking them out on the waterfront when it happened” he explained. “There was nowhere else to go, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “I know” he said softly. “You did right. It’s safest in here.”

Ianto blinked in surprise. He’d been expecting a reprimand of some sort, at least. “But...”

“Take them upstairs. Gwen, find something for them to do, we’ve got hours of lockdown to get through.” He put a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “See they’re safe. Then come and help me.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The day felt endlessly long, yet also filled with a sort of frantic, fast-paced energy that always came with the looming threat of the end of the world. Except this time, two children he loved very much were upstairs. Ironically, Ianto thought, they were probably safer here than anywhere else. As the story came out, it became clear that the poison really was all over the world, everywhere there was Atmos.

But the Sontaran invasion had been stopped at the last minute. They were still trying to figure out the details of exactly how that had happened – Jack had finally got through to UNIT, and though Ianto only heard one half of the conversation, he gathered the Doctor and Martha had been involved – but for now it barely mattered. It was his day off after all, he thought as he checked his watch, wondering if phoning Rhiannon again right now would make her worry less or more.

Probably depended on what he said to her, he thought. They were getting reports that the poison had cleared from the atmosphere outside – burned away, though how was still unclear to Ianto – but there was still another hour and a half left on the lockdown period.

Maybe he’d wait it out, he thought. Mica and David had seemed safe and happy enough for the moment; he’d left them sharing a pack of Jammy Dodgers in the boardroom. Owen had even checked them over and listened to their breathing, and they seemed unharmed by the exposure to the toxic fumes. Physically at least.

He sighed, knowing he had to get over the idea that this was his fault. He stood up, thinking to go check on the children again.

But as he did Jack came up behind him and caught his arm. “Hey.”

“All clear, sir?”

Jack sighed. “As clear as possible, at this point. UNIT are still running around like headless chickens, but the situation seems to have been brought under control.” He raised an eyebrow. “How are the children?”

Ianto shrugged. “As well as they can be, given the circumstances. I hope.”

Jack nodded. “Good.”

“Sorry about... everything. All of that.”

“What is there to be sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ianto made a face. “Bit unprofessional, though.”

Jack waved this away. “Well, it is your day off.”

“Maybe one day I’ll actually succeed in taking one of those.”

They both laughed, before Jack’s expression hardened. “I don’t have to tell you what you have to do now, right?”

Ianto shook his head. “Of course not.” He hesitated a moment. “It’s probably kinder for them to not remember anyway. Not a great day, all told.”

“What will you tell your sister?”

“Haven’t decided yet. I’ll figure something out. She’s under the impression I’m a civil servant, and I told her I was taking them to where I worked, so… ” Ianto gestured, thinking. “Secure government building, can be sealed in case of biological or chemical attack. A safe and boring couple of hours. That sort of thing.”

“Good. You remember how retcon dosage scales for children?”

“Off by heart.” He had pulled off too many city-wide informational cleanup operations not to. And one had to be particularly careful with children; they tended to be inquisitive, and less easily convinced by mundane cover stories. Adults were more often positively glad to be told that everything was fine and normal, in direct contrast to what they’d seen with their own eyes.

Jack nodded. But just as Ianto turned to leave, he caught his arm. “Ianto?”

“Hmm?”

“Just wanted to say... you did good. Bringing them here. You had to make a quick decision, and you made the right one.”

“...Thanks.”

“They seem like great kids.”

“Yeah, they are.” Ianto shrugged. “I’d say it’s because they have a great uncle, but honestly, I don’t feel like I’ve done so well at that today. I don’t even know how I’m going to get them home tonight... my car’s got an Atmos system and until I get it replaced I don’t want to risk–”

“I can drop you off in the SUV… Tosh has customised every inch of that thing, so no Atmos in there.” said Jack. “I can give you a lift to your sister’s, then home. If you want.”

“I...” it seemed, in that moment, so jarringly normal. Like something a regular couple would do. _Lifts home. Meeting the family_. As usual, he banished these thoughts as quickly as he could, for the sake of self-preservation.

“Don’t worry, I promise to behave myself in front of your sister” said Jack. “I’ll stay behind the tinted glass. You can say I’m your driver.”

Ianto laughed. “I don’t think that would make her speculate any less about my life.”

“No? So tell her I’m your boss then.” Ianto didn’t pull away as Jack pulled him close, their lips nearly touching. Jack’s curved into a smile. “Maybe speculating about something in your life that isn’t anything to do with aliens will throw her off the scent.” He laughed, as Ianto groaned. “Joking! Joking. You know I’d never put that on you.”

Ianto sighed. “I know.” And he did.

“So... lift in the SUV?” Jack smiled, pausing for a moment to kiss Ianto briefly. “And after, we don’t have to go directly back to yours. Unless you want to.”

He gave Jack a sidelong smile. “I’ve had a very long and tiring day off work, Jack.”

“Wanna make it longer?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “...Oh, why not.”

“Good. Then go see to the retcon, and let me know when you’re done.”

Ianto sighed, heart suddenly heavier than he intended to let Jack see. “Understood.”

* * *

It wasn’t very long that his uncle Ianto had been away, but David was bored, kicking his feet against the chair, folding the empty Jammy Dodgers packet into triangles, flicking crumbs across the long table. On the chair beside him, Mica was colouring in a fairly accurate drawing of a pteranodon with the Sharpies the nice lady had given them. But she was half leaning across the paper, like she was about to fall asleep. David pointedly ignored her, getting up to explore the room again.

He didn’t want to draw with Mica, but he didn’t want to sit still, either; when he’d tried that, all he could think about was poisoned air, and running, and the desperate look on uncle Ianto’s face when normally he looked so calm. That had been the most frightening part of it all, really.

There wasn’t much that was interesting in the room, though; just one of those charts that grown-ups on TV used in offices, a table and some chairs, and in one corner a weird metal thing. This held his interest for a moment, until the door opened.

He turned around. “Uncle Ianto!”

“Hello, you two. Brought you a special treat.” He was carrying a tray with two mugs on it, hot chocolate piled high with cream and marshmallows. He smiled, ruffling David’s hair and laying a hand on Mica’s shoulder as he set down the tray. “I don’t have any ice cream here, like I promised you. But this is good too, yeah?”

“Yeah!” said David, picking a marshmallow out of his and stuffing it in his mouth. Uncle Ianto made the best hot chocolate of the whole family, he and Mica had long ago solemnly agreed. Only he usually only made it for them at Christmas when he came around, except not last year because mum said he was at work, and not the year before because mum said he was in London. David picked up his cup and took a drink; it wasn’t so hot it burned his mouth like the kind his friend Tom’s mum made when he came over, and not too watery like dad sometimes made it, but just perfect. “Thank you, uncle Ianto” he said, dutifully.

“You’re welcome.” Their uncle sat down in one of the chairs opposite them. “Mica, don’t you want yours?” He looked a little bit sad, David thought, but then again some grown-ups just looked sad for no reason sometimes, and that was all there was to be said about it. Maybe, David thought, it was because he thought Mica didn’t like the hot chocolate. David kicked her under the table.

Mica kicked him back automatically and then frowned, pushing away her drawing and picking up a marshmallow, squishing it between her fingers. “When’re we going home, uncle Ianto?”

“Soon” he promised, reaching across the table to touch the back of her hand. “I’m just waiting for the all-clear, and we’ll take you home. My friend Jack and me, that is.”

“Uncle Ianto, is this what you do all the time?” asked Mica sleepily, leaning her head sideways on her folded arms and peering at him curiously. She stifled a yawn and David nearly rolled his eyes; last night Mica had been bouncing on the bed with excitement for their trip out with their uncle today, until mum had got annoyed and told her to go to bed. Even after that though, he guessed Mica had stayed up reading until after midnight. David knew she kept a torch under her mattress and stayed up late every night, though he’d been sworn to secrecy on pain of mum and dad finding out what had really happened to the TV remote control.

Still, though. It had been a long and exhausting day. David was beginning to feel a little bit sleepy himself, the room feeling warmer, his body looser and heavier, and the chair more comfortable by the minute.

Their uncle laughed, just slightly. “Actually...a lot of the time, yes.”

“And if we tell anyone will you have to kill us?”

He looked positively affronted. “I’d never do any such thing! But yes, it _is_ a bit of a secret” he said, making a shushing gesture. Mica smiled sleepily up at him, copying the motion, and so David did too. Their uncle smiled. “That’s it. Now, drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

David was already doing so, and he jabbed Mica in the arm with his elbow encouragingly; she was sucking on a marshmallow, but she was missing out on uncle Ianto’s hot chocolate. If she waited any longer, David resolved, he was going to steal hers too.

Unfortunately though, she yelped in pain, pushing him back. “Ow! Uncle Ianto, David shoved me!”

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Hey, now” said uncle Ianto, standing up. “There’s no need to–”

At that moment though, the earpiece he was wearing beeped, and he broke off. “Tosh? ...Oh. I’m just... yes, they’re fine. …Can’t Owen do it? I’m – oh, okay. Well, I am her favourite person. Yeah. I’ll be there in a moment. Yeah. Bye.”

He turned towards them, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, I need to go and deal with something. I’ll be back in...” he looked at his watch, “five minutes.”

“Where’re you going?”

“To fix a bit of pteranodon trouble. She always gets antsy when there’s a lockdown. Try not to fight while I’m gone?”

David nodded, the argument from a moment ago already forgotten.

Mica was curled up in her chair, using her jumper as a pillow on the table as she blinked up at him. “When I’m grown up, I want a dinosaur too” she said dreamily.

Uncle Ianto smiled. “Well, we’ll see about that” he said, before giving them a wink and leaving them alone.

It didn’t take long for Mica to fall asleep with her face on the table, her mug of hot chocolate barely touched. David wasted no time in stealing hers. Hot chocolate, after all, should never go to waste just because your little sister gets too sleepy to drink it.

He’d made it about three-quarters of the way through the second mug before the warm, encompassing numbness hit him, and he too was fast asleep.

* * *

It was the car coming to a halt that woke Mica up. Even before she was fully awake though, she was aware that it wasn’t a car she knew. Not her mum and dad’s car, or her uncle’s, or her grandma’s, or any of her friends’ parents. It was too big and dark and it smelled different, and when she opened her eyes there was a lot of computer stuff in front of her that she didn’t recognise.

And there was a man sitting in the driver’s seat, his face turned mostly away from her. For a moment she was scared, thinking back to what she’d learned at school about not going with strangers – had she been kidnapped? – but then he turned a little, and she recognised him. Of course; the tall American man with the big coat, who had been so nice with her. Jack, he’d said his name was. Uncle Ianto’s friend. Well, that was okay then.

She glanced over to see David, sprawled asleep halfway across his seat. His mouth was half open and he was drooling a little bit. She was just about to reach over and poke him in the arm, when the other door opened and uncle Ianto was there, undoing David’s seatbelt and lifting him out of the car like he did when they were little, and starting to carry him towards what she now saw was their own house, where their mum was waiting at the door. After a moment he turned back, starting back towards the car with empty arms.

Mica went still again, doing her best impression of sleep; she always liked uncle Ianto carrying her the best, but maybe he wouldn’t do it if he thought she was awake. And so she closed her eyes again, being as quiet as she could and trying to breathe evenly.

Sure enough he came back and lifted her in his arms, carrying her towards the house. Just before he handed her to her mum he dropped a little kiss on her forehead.

“And you’re sure they’re both okay?” Mica heard her mother ask.

“Just had a long day” uncle Ianto answered. “They should be fine tomorrow. If not, ring me. I know a good doctor who can look them over.”

“Not on the NHS I take it? You get Bupa with that fancy job of yours?”

“It’s not fancy. But yeah, something like that.”

“All right, well. Thanks for taking care of them. ...You know I don’t blame you, don’t you?”

“I know.”

A pause, as the two of them shared an awkward side-hug over Mica’s head. “Ianto?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think happened today? I mean, _really_?”

He paused. Mica listened silently, too interested in his answer to risk being found awake and eavesdropping. Finally he spoke. “I’ve got no idea” he said, breathing out. “Just... let’s hope it doesn’t happen again. Yeah?”

She heard her mother laugh. “Yeah. Fair enough. Want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No thanks, I’ve got a lift waiting.”

“Oh?”

“My boss offered to drop me off in the company car. No Atmos, you see.”

“Right. We should see about getting rid of ours too, I suppose.”

“Yes, as soon as possible.”

“In the morning, then. Goodnight, Ianto.”

“Goodnight, Rhiannon.”

And with that, he left. Cracking her eyes open just a little, the last thing Mica saw was him climbing into the passenger seat of that big black car, before the door closed behind him.

As her mum carried her up the stairs and put her to bed, Mica carried on pretending to be asleep; she was very good at it by now. She listened to the silence as her mother stared down at her thoughtfully for a moment, then kissed her on the cheek and left, closing the door behind her and leaving her in darkness, but for a thin strip of light from out in the hallway. From the other side of the door, she could hear her parents talking in voices too quiet for her to make out what they were saying.

After a while she began to drift off to sleep again. But not before thinking about everything that had happened to her today; poisonous air, and running, and hiding down in a big noisy cellar with lots of computers and a dinosaur.

And Uncle Ianto being a secret agent, and all his friends who were also secret agents, but were nicer than she’d expected from watching TV. The part about her uncle didn’t really surprise her, but she got the feeling there was a lot she didn’t understand. It was certainly worth asking her parents about. And David too, if he felt like waking up.

Tomorrow, Mica thought as she fell asleep. She’d think more about it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Ianto-centric arc time, baby!!! One of the things I wanted from canon was to see more of Ianto's family so since this is a fix-it fic....I Can Do That :)))))))
> 
> Also, I've realised that my timeline of Doctor Who as compared to Torchwood is....extremely wrong, probably, but I'm sticking with it for now (and it'll all get sorted out by the timeskip I've got coming up anyway).


	6. Chapter 6

It was nearly 4am when Jack heard the noise, from somewhere above the hatch. Never a deep sleeper, he had woken for a little while earlier after dreaming in fits and starts. Now, he was just on the edge of falling asleep again, his face pressed to the back of Ianto’s neck. The rise and fall of Ianto’s bare chest as he slept with Jack’s arms around him, the familiar warmth of Ianto's skin and the beat of his heart was such a comforting rhythm, that for a moment Jack felt so peaceful that he wasn’t sure what had woken him.

The thing was, Jack had been quite prepared for Ianto to want to go home alone to his own flat, to want some space that night. He’d been prepared to back off and sleep alone, seeing the exhaustion and worry on Ianto’s face after they'd dropped off the children with his sister. But Ianto had been in one of those moods he had sometimes, defiant and restless, channeling his excess nervous energy from the day they’d had into whatever he could. Which in this case, had involved him coming back to the Hub with Jack and pressing him against the wall of his office in a heated kiss, and one thing had led to another. One thing had led to quite a lot of very enjoyable things in fact, until they’d eventually fallen asleep together in the narrow bunk, exhausted but comforted in each other’s arms.

Jack smiled as he remembered it, reached up and stroked Ianto’s hair as he slept. Sometimes he thought he should try harder to encourage Ianto towards better coping mechanisms. But then he’d probably get accused of being hypocritical. Which was fair enough, he supposed.

But still, he did worry sometimes. He hadn’t missed how worried Ianto had been about the children yesterday. The way he’d been when he’d brought them in, eyes red from the poison, breath rasping in his chest, and looking about to collapse on his feet. The way despite it all, he’d held them so, so close. Something Jack knew about Ianto was this: Ianto was someone who would rip the world apart to protect those he loved, without a second thought.

Just another reason that Jack was wary about letting Ianto get too close; the world certainly didn’t need more ripping apart, especially where Jack was concerned. But that was an old fear, for another day.

Now, there was a noise coming from somewhere just above.

Well, now he was fully awake anyway. Ianto muttered a little and shifted in his sleep as Jack brushed a quick kiss on the place where his neck met his spine.

Once Jack had pulled on some clothes and climbed the ladder up to the office, he was about to switch on the monitor and check the CCTV, when he caught sight of movement at the window.

On the other side, in the Hub, was Gray. He was pacing in distraction, like a caged animal. But as Jack watched, he sat down on the sofa and buried his head in his hands.

Without a second thought, Jack swung around the desk, running out of the office, trying not to be too quiet on his feet and startle Gray. “Hey.” Jack came over to him cautiously. “Can’t sleep?”

Gray took his hands away from his face and looked at him, hollow-eyed. “Something like that.”

“Nightmares again?”

“...Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Gray made a face. “Not really.”

“That’s fine.” Jack frowned. “Want a cup of tea?”

“No.”

“Something stronger, then?”

“...Sure.”

In the time it took Jack to come back from his office with two measures of scotch, Gray had sat down on the sofa and begun staring blank-eyed at the wall. He nodded silently as Jack handed him the glass, then took a sip. Neither of them spoke as they drank, and Gray wasn’t even looking at him; in fact, his eyes seemed to see something that wasn’t there, darting a little this way and that.

Jack had finished his own drink and was just thinking about going back to get the bottle, when Gray spoke. “Sometimes, it comes back” he said, voice empty of intonation.

“What?”

Gray turned to look at him, a frown appearing on his face. But he looked Jack in the eyes now. “Sometimes” he said, keeping his voice level, “all I want is to make you hurt.”

Jack nodded. “But you don’t.”

“It passes” said Gray, nodding. “But it’s there. I want you to know that, because sometimes I think you think too well of me.”

“But you said yourself” said Jack. “It passes.”

“But it’s there.”

He thought for a moment before speaking again. “I think” he said at last, spinning his empty glass between his fingers, “I think everything we’ve ever been is always there, in the corners. But it’s whether you choose to be that now, that’s important. You say some part of you still wants to hurt me. But you don’t. And _t_ _hat’s_ what matters.”

“Do you really believe that?”

He shrugged. “It’s been my experience, of which I’ve had a few decades more than most.”

“Would you stake your team’s lives on it?”

“What d’you think I do every single day?”

Gray stared at him. “Yeah” he said slowly. “I guess you do.”

They were silent for a little longer, as Gray finished his drink.

At last, he set the glass down on the table, fingers clasping together in front of him, knuckles pale with tension. “How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Carry on, after...” he gestured. “Everything.”

 _Everything they’d seen in the memories, and more that they hadn’t_. “I don’t always know myself” he said. “For a while, I held on because I was waiting for someone to come and find me.”

“The Doctor.”

“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “But then, at some point…I realised I was doing it for its own sake.”

“How do _I_ do that?” asked Gray, sounding desolate. “What do I have?”

“You have me, for one” said Jack, firmly.

“Okay... but where do I _start_? It’s just... so much. Where do I start, Javic?”

The desperation in Gray's voice tore into Jack's chest. “...Somewhere” he said, laying a hand on the small of Gray’s back, rubbing circles there. His brother didn’t lean away, so Jack pulled him in against his side, Gray’s head against his cheek. “It’s... a lot. But luckily, there’s only one rule: you start _somewhere_.”

“...I don’t know if I can.”

Jack looked over at him. Behind him, the digital clock clicked over from 04:59 to 05:00. “Come on. We’re going outside.”

“What? Why?”

“I want to show you something.”

As they came up in the lift, the Plass was deserted, filled with the pale grey light before dawn. It wasn’t quite raining, but there was a damp wind blowing in off the sea, with a little more bite to it than one might expect for the time of year.

Gray didn’t say anything as Jack led him towards the Millennium Centre. By the time they were on the roof, the sunrise was beginning to paint the clouds a ruddy pink at the horizon.

The wind picked up as they watched the dawn break, listening to the sounds of rubbish lorries beginning their morning routes, seeing the streets fill up with cars and buses and the streetlamps switch off one by one.

At last the sun was up, bathing them both in cloudy morning light. “This city” said Jack, shaking his head. “You look out, and you just wonder, what’s it gonna be next? Weevils or space junk, or some crazy alien despot trying to take over the planet, with Cardiff as home base? Well, it doesn’t matter, because they’ve gotta get through me first. Me and my friends. And they won’t.” He turned and looked Gray in the eye. “That’s where _I_ start.”

“Easy for you to say. You belong here.”

Jack turned to look at his profile, lit by the morning sun just peeping between the heavy layers of stratus clouds. Suddenly, it struck him how much Gray had grown up to look like their mother, though the way his hair curled – just beginning to grow out past his ears – was all their father’s. It made something tug at his heart, from lifetimes ago. “I didn’t used to belong here.” Jack laughed softly. “Just... ended up blending in with everything that gets washed up here, from all over the universe. It’s not so hard to do.”

Gray gave him an extremely sceptical look.

“It’s not!” he said. He smiled, looking out. “And if it feels like it is, then... you gotta start smaller, I think. Don’t think about the whole future out in front of you. That was my mistake. Think about... small things. Things you can hold on to, for now.”

“You’ve got them” said Gray, and Jack wasn’t sure whether he’d imagined the longing in his voice. “Those four.”

“Yeah, I have” said Jack, fond.

Gray merely stared out, eyes reflecting a sliver of sunlight. Both contemplative, and desperately sad.

“Hey, don’t look directly at the sun” said Jack.

Gray turned and looked at him, blinking. “Mom used to tell us that.”

“Yeah, well, she was right. There are even similar UV levels here, though maybe a little lower.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a little longer. The wind was blowing fast and cold now, and beside him Gray shivered.

Jack looked over at him, frowning at the thin shirt Gray was wearing. “Cold?”

“...Little bit.”

“Weather’s not like home, is it?” he frowned, thinking not only of the balmy beaches and warm summer storms they’d grown up with, but suddenly also of the cloying humidity of the prison cell they’d been to in the vision. Gray had grown up in that place, as much as he had on the Boeshane Peninsula. Maybe even more. It was an upsetting thought.

“Not much, no.”

“We should get you some proper clothes. Want to choose something from the archives? We’ve got a whole cupboard of clothes in there. I’ll ask Ianto to let you in and show you where everything is when he wakes up.”

“...Okay.” Gray was silent for a little longer, though Jack could feel his gaze on him. “Hey, uh. Are you and him…?”

“Yeah” said Jack, with a small smile. “Yeah, we are.”

“Right” said Gray, awkwardly. He squinted back at Jack. “You’re in love with him, then?”

It had been phrased like a question, but it didn’t sound like one, the way he said it. Jack blinked a few times, opened his mouth, changed his mind, closed it again, and then spoke. “That obvious, huh?” He swallowed, laughed hollowly, suddenly nervous. He’d never admitted as much to anyone else before, least of all Ianto. Maybe this was better.

Gray shrugged. “I don’t... know, really, how to tell. I missed... a lot of time. But... it was a guess. And...” he gestured. “The way you talk about him.”

“Oh. I wasn’t aware there was a _way I talk about him_.”

“There is.”

“...Huh.”

They were silent for a minute more, as Jack contemplated how surreal this conversation felt in the moment. Being interrogated by your sibling about your relationship was a kind of normality he’d never even considered himself able to have again.

“C’mon” he said quietly, as Gray shivered again. “Let’s go back inside.”

* * *

_**[11am]** _

“So, Jack and Gwen have gone to meet the mayor at City Hall this morning, to discuss...well, the ongoing cleanup” said Ianto tactfully, typing his access code into the number pad. “So I’m to show you the clothes we have in the archives. You can pick something out of the extensive wardrobe Torchwood has collected over the years as a temporary measure, and then, once circumstances permit, we can go shopping. Um. If you like.”

What he really meant, of course, was once it was understood that Gray could be trusted to go outside without murdering anyone. But of course, that wasn’t his place to say. Gray nodded warily, as Ianto opened the door to the wardrobe, with its multiple levels of hangers and drawers. “The clothes are roughly organised by historical era. Don’t mind the labels, they identify previous...owners. Of course, a lot of them were Jack’s, from over the course of the twentieth century. Those should fit you at least, the two of you are around the same size.” A lot of the clothes had also originally come from the possessions of various Torchwood employees killed in the line of duty, or other assorted corpses, but that information didn’t seem pertinent to share right now. Ianto clasped his hands together briskly. “So, ah. Is that all right?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Well. I’ll just go into the next room, and…” why was this all so awkward, Ianto wondered. Maybe something to do with the fact that this was Jack’s brother, who had tried to kill them all less than a month ago. It wasn’t a social situation he had much precedent for, to say the least. “...Let me know when you’re done. I’ll just be making coffee out there. ...Do you want some?”

Gray gave him an odd look, head tilted on one side. “I’ve never tried coffee” he admitted, after a moment.

“You’ve _never–_ ” Ianto blinked a few times, stunned to his very core. “...I mean, I guess there’s no reason why you would have” he said at last. “I’ll make you a cup, shall I?”

“...Okay.”

The minutes stretched out as he made coffee, bringing Tosh and Owen their cups, the air glittering with Owen’s now-familiar cloud of nanogenes. When he came back up with his own and Gray’s coffees, he nearly dropped the mugs as the door of the archives opened in front of him.

“Oh!” said Ianto, looking at Gray. “That’s, um. That’s... a choice of outfit. It certainly is... bold. Interesting.” He passed Gray the mug of coffee, voice rising up a little. “Are... are you sure about that?”

Gray stared at him, accepting the cup and raising it to his lips. He took a tiny sip, looking pensive for a moment, then coughed and made a succession of faces.

“Don’t like it? The bitter notes of coffee can be an acquired taste, but there are other roasts that–”

“No, it’s good.” Gray gave him something that was probably supposed to be a smile, but was oddly disconcerting. “I can’t taste bitterness, anymore. There was this herb they fed us, for years and years. It was so bitter I’d get sick. This tastes sweet to me. I think I like it.”

“...I’m glad” said Ianto, utterly at a loss as to what else to say. He shuffled his feet. “Guess you won’t need sugar then... I’ll make a note. Um. So… back to the clothes you’re wearing...”

“It’s very warm. Reminds me of home.”

Ianto pressed his lips together. “Mmm. Well. Ah... the shearling bomber jacket is good, I suppose… but that’s not how you’re supposed to wear that hat. Also, the trousers... where did you even find plus fours? And Ugg boots? And that yellow cravat?”

He shrugged. “They were in the cupboard. And they reminded me of our sandstorm gear, from home.”  
  
“And the fluffy scarf?”

“It’s warm in this cold climate.”

“...Fair enough.” Ianto frowned. “Dare I ask about the waistcoat, under the jacket?”

“You’re wearing one. My brother has one too.”

“...I mean, true, but...” Ianto shook his head. He was wondering how he had come to a place in life where he was compelled to explain twenty-first century fashion to the long lost little brother of his boss and/or boyfriend from the fifty-first century, and utterly drawing a blank. _Torchwood_ , he supposed, was the only satisfactory explanation. He sighed. “Look... I’m not going to lie. That outfit is a mess. People would stare at you on the street.”

“...Oh.”

“...I can help you choose something else, if you like?”

“All right. But I want to keep this.” Gray indicated the jacket. “Like leather armour that’s also warm.”

“Well, I guess strong coat preferences run in the family” Ianto muttered. “All right. The jacket is good, I’ll give you that. But how about we go back to the drawing board on the rest of the outfit?”

“...Drawing board?”

“Figure of speech.”

A little while later, Gray came out of the door once more. He turned around, looking at himself in the mirror. “Is this better?”

“It’s... a lot better” said Ianto. “Like it?”

“...Yeah.” Gray picked at the fabric of his dark jeans and the soft cotton shirt he was wearing under his jacket. Ianto had let him keep the scarf, and he peered up out of it. “Is this what people wear in this time?”

“Well, some people” said Ianto.

“What about air pollution? Dust storms? What do you do about those?”

“We don’t… really have so much of those in Cardiff. Rain storms, yes. And... well. We _do_ also have air pollution...”

“You mean like yesterday. My brother told me that Sontarans poisoned the atmosphere.”

“Yes, that’s true. But aliens doing it is more the exception than the rule. It’s mostly just greenhouse gases and particulates, which is...” he blew out his breath, “pretty much our own fault, as a species. But it’s not something you need to worry so much about.”

“Okay. I had thought we were already on the cusp of the first great atmospheric toxicity period.” Gray frowned. “Sorry, I haven’t learned much history since I was about seven. After that...” he broke off, gritting his teeth as though he regretted bringing it up.

Ianto regretted it too. He found himself struggling with this entire conversation. “It’s all right” he said. “I’m... not really sure I want to know the future, anyway.”

“...Of course.”

There was another uncomfortable silence, as Gray toed the ground with his new Moon Boots; Ianto had drawn a hard line on the Uggs. “Soooo...” he said, scrabbling desperately for something to say. “How’s your new room?”

“Not a cell” said Gray, shrugging. “So, better than before.”

“...Of course.”

“You know” said Gray, giving him a curious look, “this morning, my brother took me outside for the first time since... well.” He frowned. “We stood on the roof, and watched the sun rise over the city.”

Ianto couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Yeah, Jack does like to do that.”

“He used to do it when we were little, too.”

“ _Did_ he _?_ ”

“Yes. But you see, I’m... glad I got to meet you properly, because this morning he mentioned you. He said–”

And at the moment, Ianto’s phone rang. He frowned, reaching into his pocket. The moment he saw the caller ID, he felt a sense of vague foreboding. He glanced up at Gray. “Ah... sorry. Very sorry. But... hang on a moment” he said, and answered the phone. “Rhiannon? What is it? I’m at work.”

“I know... I know Ianto, I’m sorry, but... I’ve got to ask. Where exactly did you take the children yesterday? What did you do, I mean.”

Ianto’s vague foreboding turned rapidly to rather specific worry at the tone of her voice. “I told you” he said. “I took them to the place where I work, and sealed off the building from the fumes until it was over. ...Why?”

“It’s David” said Rhiannon. “He’s sick.”

Ianto’s heart jumped into his throat. “Sick? Sick how?”

“Well, this morning, he wouldn’t wake up to his alarm, and, well, you know, he often doesn’t, so I came in and... he wouldn’t wake up until about eleven, just slept through loud noise and everything. And… and I was _scared_ , Ianto. But now he’s awake he’s been throwing up his breakfast, poor thing. Says he’s got a headache, feels dizzy... I’ve phoned the doctor but it wasn’t the right time of day for phone appointments and I couldn’t get an emergency one at the GP because you have to come in at half eight, and David was still asleep then, see? And Johnny asked his mate Alun – you know, the one who's a nurse at the hospital – but... I don’t know, Ianto.” She sounded equal parts tense, angry, and afraid. “I was just wondering if you knew anything, since you had him with you through all that, yesterday. ...Are _you_ all right?”

“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth, making a quick decision. “Rhiannon. Listen to me. Don’t call any more doctors, I’m coming over and bringing one with me. Understand? Like I said yesterday.”

“Oh, Ianto. I don’t like that tone of voice...I swear, if it’s something serious...”

“It’s not” said Ianto, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, just... I’m coming over, right now.”

“I thought you were at work–”

“Family emergency” he smiled, beginning to pace nervously. “My boss will understand.”

Rhiannon let out her breath. “Good. ...Thank you, Ianto.”

“No problem. See you in a bit.”

“Bye.”

He tried to make himself breathe slowly as he ended the call. Gray was staring at him, disconcertingly still. Ianto forced a smile. “Um. Small issue came up” he said. “Got to go out... shouldn’t be too long. Just... wait for Jack to come back, will you? I should be back before he is, but if not, tell him... oh, I don’t know. Family thing.”

“Family thing” repeated Gray, eyebrows knitting together. “Right.”

“Got to go” said Ianto, already running towards the door. “Owen!” he yelled as he ran down the stairs, clattering down into the medical bay. “Owen, get your medical stuff. We’re going on a trip.”

“What?” yelped Owen, as Ianto grabbed him by the corner of his labcoat. “Ianto, calm down. Where the hell are you – ah! I may still be technically dead but I have human rights! You can’t just kidnap me!”

“Shut up and come with me. I’ll explain on the way” said Ianto, dragging Owen after him.

* * *

“Well, everything seems to be fine” said Owen, straightening up and turning to Rhiannon. “Likely the effects of minor inhalation of the fumes yesterday. We’re seeing it all over.”

“So he’ll be all right?”

“He’s on the way to it already. Plenty of rest and water. Should be okay by tomorrow.” He smiled at David. “Doing better already, aren’t you?”

“A bit” said David, biting his lip. He looked pale and wan, but he was standing upright at least, and had managed to drink half of a carton of Ribena without throwing up. Which was progress, apparently.

“See?” Owen turned and addressed both Ianto and Rhiannon, who were wearing matching looks of worry and frustration.

“…Okay” Rhiannon replied, clearly still doubtful. “Well. I’m glad.”

“Rhiannon, what about Mica?” Ianto was saying in the background, as Owen took out his stethoscope and listened to David’s breathing. “Is she also sick?”

“Didn’t seem to be this morning” said Rhiannon.

“That’s good” muttered Ianto, nodding. “Where is she? Can I talk to her?”

“Well, not right now... I sent her off to school?” She folded her arms, raising her a sarcastic eyebrow in a way that apparently ran strongly in the family, Owen was slightly alarmed to note. “As one does?”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good” said Ianto, pacing and running a hand through his hair. “That’s good!”

Rhiannon glared at him. “The way you’re acting... it’s scaring me, Ianto.”

“Yeah, Ianto, calm the fuck down” hissed Owen, getting up from the side of the bed and laying a hand on Ianto’s arm. “Oh, fuck. I mean – shit... sorry” he gestured back to the bed, where David was peering up at him, giggling nervously. He shrugged, as Ianto looked daggers at him. “What? He’ll learn the words eventually.” He turned to Rhiannon. “Seriously though. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. In the meantime, bed rest, plenty of water to replace lost fluids. Ibuprofen for the headache.”

She dropped her voice. “It’s not serious, then?”

“As I said, probably the after effects of a low dose of the toxin, combined with stress. Let him watch cartoons and stay home from school.” He winked at David. “He’ll be better in no time.”

“...Oh. Okay. Well, that’s a relief. Doctor…?”

“Doctor Owen Harper” he said, shaking her hand. “Sorry, I know my hands are cold. Doctor thing. From the, ah. Hand-washing.”

“Um...”

But at that point Ianto saved him from carrying on the conversation as he breathed out, straightening his posture. “It’s fine, Rhiannon. Everything’s going to be fine” he said, fixing on a smile and sitting down on the side of David’s bed. Owen watched him ruffle David’s hair. “You’ll be fine tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Mm-hmm” said David, a bit doubtfully.

“And then maybe we can get you that ice cream I owe you from yesterday.”

David frowned, thinking. “I don’t remember what happened yesterday. ...None of it.”

“None at all? Don’t be silly, it must be in there somewhere” said Ianto gently, tapping David’s temple, as Rhiannon seemed about to speak. “You were with me and Mica, remember? We were going to go for ice cream, but then there was poison in the air.”

“...Yeah. That was on the news, on TV today.”

“Yes. So we went to a big office building in town, instead. Lots of metal and glass. You and Mica drew pictures at my desk, and I put them up on the side of my cubicle.”

David was squishing up his face. “Yeah” he said, reluctant. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Temporary amnesia is a common stress response in children” Owen leaned over to whisper to Rhiannon. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Are you sure that’s–”

He gave her a smile. “Trust me, you see it all the time” he said. He pointed back at Ianto and David, who were discussing the day they’d supposedly had. “See? He’s remembering already.”

“Right. Well. I suppose that’s that, then...”

* * *

A little later Owen waited by the car, watching from a distance as Ianto said goodbye to Rhiannon at the door. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying; maybe it was an argument. Or maybe they just glared at each other when they talked all the time; in his own experience, families could be like that.

As he was thinking this his phone rang. Glancing at the name, he flipped it open and answered. “Hi, Jack.”

“Owen! Listen, are you at the Hub? Because, uh, Gwen and I are bringing a guest with us.”

“Oh, you two been... _networking_ at the mayor’s office?”

“Mmm. Something like that...”

“Ianto’s here with me. You’ll make him jealous.”

“Ha. Please reassure him that it hasn’t been as much fun as I expected… pretty messy, actually. The mayor’s aide turned out to be a disguised Velipsorian.”

“Velipsorian?”

“Basically? Slime monster. Tentacles. Lots of.”

“...Huh. Takes all sorts.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Handsome but quiet, wouldn’t know it to look at him. Only, Gwen noticed the trail of purple goo, and once his cover was blown he decided to ditch his human disguise, and that was that. Long story short, we’re bringing him in. Can you figure out how to slime-proof a cell in the next twenty minutes?”

“Try Tosh, she’s at the Hub. Ianto and I are out.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He darted a glance over to Ianto, wondering how much he’d told Jack. “Ianto had a... family situation that came up.”

“...Oh. Right.”

Owen saw Ianto fold his arms. “Yeah. Gonna take the long way back. Try not to get slime on my stuff.”

“Can’t promise, but, noted.”

“Anything else?”

“Hmm...” he could hear the smile in Jack’s voice. “Tell Ianto that if he’s secretly a slime monster with a bunch of tentacles he has to tell me. I don’t necessarily mind, but I’d like to have that information, y’know?”

Owen rolled his eyes. “You’re a disgusting man, Harkness.”

“I just feel like I might be missing a trick there...”

“Okay, putting down the phone now–”

He heard Jack laughing. “Give Ianto a kiss from me, will you?”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Aw. I’m all covered in alien goo, though.”

“Yeah, I bet you are. See you later” said Owen, grimacing as the call ended. Jack seemed to be enjoying his day at least. And if Ianto didn’t want to tell him about this yet, then Owen would keep his secret. He watched as Rhiannon gave a final, slightly exasperated sigh, before pulling Ianto into a hug. They held each other tight for a long moment before she let him go, giving him a little push back towards the car.

As soon as they were in the SUV, Owen turned to Ianto in the passenger seat. “So, exactly _how_ much retcon did you give the kid?”

Ianto paused in straightening his tie, glaring at Owen. “The right dosage! I thought!”

Owen snorted as he started the car. “Apparently not.”

He could see Ianto’s face in the mirror; he looked slightly ill himself, and more than a little in pain. Owen sighed, and turned a corner into the next street.

“Where are we going?” said Ianto. “This isn’t the way back.”

“Yeah, well. We’re not going back to the Hub right now.”

“Oh? I was in the middle of something, I said to Jack I’d–”

“Jack just phoned me. Slime monster issues at the major’s office, apparently. They’ll be out a while.”

“...Oh.”

“And we’re taking a detour. Come on.”

* * *

Ianto looked doubtful as Owen led him into the pub and sat him down at a table by the window in the sunshine. But he didn’t protest, just fidgeted with his cuffs as Owen went over to the bar.

When Owen got back Ianto was half lying down on the table, head pillowed on his crossed arms. He sighed and put the pint glass down in front of Ianto, poking him hard on the top of the head as the bartender brought over a plate of food and put it down on the table.

Ianto raised his head, looking annoyed for a moment, then suspicious when he saw the food and the pint.

“What’s that?”

“What’s it look like?” said Owen.

“Looks like a cheese and onion pasty with chips, and a pint of the second cheapest beer this place has” said Ianto, peering at it as though it might explode.

“Yeah, well, they were out of the cheapest” lied Owen. He slid the pint forward, making Ianto wrinkle his nose at the wet trailing ring it made on the table, apparently reflexively. “Go on, drink. Eat something” said Owen. “I’m sick of you making that face.”

“Face? _What_ face?”

Owen imitated it, as best he could. “Y'know. Like you’re bearing the burdens of your sins. Or like someone pissed in your cereal. Yeah, that one. You’re making it now.”

“I’m _not–_ ”

“Yeah, you are.”

Ianto rolled his eyes as Owen pushed the pint closer. “We’re working.”

Owen shrugged. “It’s lunchtime. And who’s going to call you out? Jack? He and Gwen are out having a good slimey time, or whatever–”

“ _Please_ don’t phrase it like that.”

“–and meanwhile you’re here moping, and I’m sick of looking at it.”

Ianto looked incredulous. “Owen, I could have accidentally poisoned my nephew yesterday! So excuse me if I’m a little on edge. And I’m not _moping_.”

“You are” said Owen. “And, last I checked, you didn’t actually poison anyone. And you did, explicitly, bring me here to check that very fact. Being a doctor and all.”

Ianto frowned, but reached out and took a distracted sip of the pint. Then a delicate bite of his pasty. “It _must_ have been a retcon overdose, though” he said after a moment. “Classic symptoms, I didn’t even need you to tell me that.”

“Always nice to feel appreciated.”

“But you agree, don’t you?”

“Oh, definitely. Like you said, classic symptoms. Like a bad hangover. And the sleeping part, that’ll be the sedative.”

“Yeah. I just…” Ianto looked pained, taking another sip as he ran a hand through his hair, “I can’t figure out what went wrong! I _know_ retcon dosages.”

“Probably better than I do” agreed Owen, rolling his eyes. “Look, Ianto. You cocked this one up. Trust me, I’m not trying to deny that. But would you stop beating yourself up over it? There wasn’t any long-term harm done! The kid’ll be fine in a day. And the younger one, the girl–”

“Mica.”

“Yeah. She’s fine too, your sister said. So no harm done. Yeah?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him, biting into a chip and looking unconvinced. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a slightly crumpled sheet of printer paper, which he carefully unfolded on the table. A child’s drawing of a pteranodon, done in marker that had bled through the paper a little. There were other childish doodles around the rim of the paper; three stick figures, two small, one taller, holding the others’ hands. A child’s handwriting labelling them, _Mica, David, uncle Ianto_.

“That’s a good picture of you” said Owen. “Really captures your likeness.”

Ianto sighed. “Maybe I should put this up on the fridge in the Hub. You know, with magnets. Like people do.”

“I don’t know if we have any magnets. Except those super strong alien ones that can rip out a belly button piercing at a hundred metres–”

“...Maybe best not” said Ianto, shuddering.

Owen gave an exasperated sigh; despite everything, he couldn’t stand seeing Ianto like this. “Look, I’m not good at pep talks–”

“ _Never_ would have guessed.”

“–But... I saw the way you were with those kids yesterday. Protective. And you kept them safe. Which was the point, I thought.”

Ianto made a face. “Compliments from you always make me suspicious.”

“Hey! You know, I’m trying for a little sincerity as I go into my second life.”

“How’s that going?”

“Would be better, if you weren’t so unhelpful.”

“Been called worse.”

“Haven’t you just.”

They glared at each other for a moment, before Ianto took another sip and set down his drink with a sigh. “Thanks, Owen” he said, not looking up. “Really though. It means a lot. Just...” he looked up, waving a hand. “You know, I hate lying to them. I _hate_ it. But if it means my family – those two kids, and Rhiannon, and Johnny, and mum – can avoid getting caught up in Torchwood stuff, then I would. I will. But... but I’m worried it’s going to happen anyway. It bloody happened _yesterday_ , whether they remember it or not!”

“...I mean, technically that wasn’t actually Torchwood stuff. It was the whole world, and all we really did was hide out in the Hub–”

“You know what I mean, Owen.”

Owen nodded. “I know. But it’s not your fault” he said, with gentleness that surprised even himself. “Your family. You’re... good to each other. You’d never hurt each other on purpose.”

Ianto frowned, looking at him a little closer over the rim of the glass. “...Guessing yours isn’t like that?”

Owen wished almost immediately that he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t feel like explaining his family, least of all to Ianto, least of all right now. “Good guess” he said, looking down at the table. “Honestly, it was a relief when mum finally kicked me out.”

Ianto put down his drink. Owen wished he’d had the presence of mind to slip him some retcon if he was going to overshare like this.

“Owen... I didn’t know.”

He looked down, fingers picking at the paper edge of a beer mat. “Yeah, well.”

“Owen–”

And then, the PDA in Ianto’s pocket began beeping softly. Rift alert. They looked at each other. Owen sighed. “Well, that’s that then. Conversation averted. Shall we go?”

Ianto looked at him for a moment longer, then sighed and folded up the drawing, putting it safely back in his inside pocket. He shoved a couple more chips into his mouth, getting to his feet and dusting off his suit. “Guess we’d better.”

* * *

“Now this” said Gwen, sticking yet another strip of duct tape over the lid of a double size wheelie bin, “this is just _classic_ Torchwood, this is.” She gritted her teeth, pushing down on her side of the lid as the thing inside bucked and shuddered and screamed gloopily, while Jack practically flung himself over his end to keep the entire bin from being knocked over. “Meeting with the mayor at City Hall, nice clothes and everything, wear my best shoes, diplomatic mission kind of thing. And then we both get dunked in purple alien goo.”

He laughed. “Well, you know. That’s the way it is, sometimes.”

She made a face, catching the scent of the thin coating of lumpy violet slime that covered both her and Jack. “ _Eugh_. You better not make Ianto take your coat to get dry-cleaned again. You don’t deserve that man. Tape.”

He tore off another strip of duct tape with his teeth and handed it to her, not an easy feat when he was still half lying across the top of the bin, trying to keep it closed. “You’re welcome.”

“Still” she said, sticking down the tape. “At least we can – _a_ _ugh_! Jack, what the hell are you–” she struggled with the bin as Jack drew back, staring at the strap on his wrist. “What’s that? Rift alert?”

“...Yeah. And something else, too.”

“What – _ow! Fuck!_ – what is it?”

“...A message.” It was chiming softly, and as Gwen watched – still fighting against the slime monster that was valiantly trying to escape the bin – he flipped open the cover of his wrist strap, and a blue light beamed out of it.

Immediately she was on alert; the last time this had happened it had been John Hart and Gray, and... well. A lot of things had happened then, most of them bad. But no figure materialised this time; only scrolling text in a language Gwen couldn’t read.

“What is it? We can phone Tosh, get her to run it through the translation–”

“No, I can read it” said Jack, quietly.

“Then what? What is it? Trouble?”

“Oh, yeah.” He turned to look at her. “We need to get back to the Hub. Need some help with that thing?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

_**[Earlier]** _

Tosh jumped a little as Ianto ran past her, practically dragging Owen along with him from the medical bay.

“What’s going on?” she called after them. “Something wrong?”

“No idea” yelled Owen over his shoulder as he ran. “Apparently Ianto needs my help, for secret reasons–”

“I _said_ I’d explain on the way!”

“–and is going to explain on the way. Hold down the fort, will you Tosh?” He just had time to touch the back of her hand on the way past as he was whisked away.

“Sure” she said, frowning. But they had already gone, the cog door trundling closed behind them, leaving her alone. It was very quiet in the Hub, with Myfanwy asleep and everyone else out, and the space seemed to stretch endlessly high above her.

Perfect time for some of her own research. Tosh had several projects on the go; she’d been off active duty for a week or so after she’d been shot, and with the help of some of Owen’s nanogenes she’d even been able to move around fairly normally, without pain. So the time off had been more of a formality really, but she hadn’t complained, with all the time it had given her to tinker with the various alien artifacts they’d been accumulating over the years.

Sitting down at her desk, she mentally went through the list of her current projects. First of all there were the time locks, an old favourite. Last week, she thought she’d had a breakthrough in miniaturising the technology; she touched the pendant she wore around her neck, round and shiny with a small yellow button in the middle. The prototype of the portable design. But it still wasn’t perfect: if she wanted to make the time bubble it created stable for more than a few minutes, she’d need a much bigger power source. The Hub’s emergency time lock could run pretty much indefinitely off the power of the Rift, but outside it wasn’t so simple.

Still, she was enjoying the challenge. After tinkering contendedly with some spare cells for a while, she was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of the Rift alarm, followed by the _ping_ of an alert; incoming transmission. She looked to the other side of her desk, switched on the low-frequency radio where she monitored alien broadcasts. Usually there was a low level of alien chatter and stray signals superimposed over the steady buzz of the Rift. The mains hum of Cardiff, Suzie had called it when Tosh had started here.

This, though, was something different; a signal, she realised.

She glanced at the Rift monitor screen first; the spike seemed to be localised in the water, just outside the bay where it grew deeper. So no point in patching into CCTV if the spike had been underwater. Frowning, she switched to her other screen, looking at the transmission. Her universal translation program was already working on it, the progress bar saying 53%.

While she waited, Tosh took the pendant off, staring at it thoughtfully as it sat in her hand. Sitting back down at the desk, she reached for a screwdriver to take the back casing off again. A moment later though, she heard the soft alarm tone that indicated an error in the translation software.

“The remaining 47% is untranslatable?” said Tosh quietly. Sometimes she talked to her computer; she’d long ago acknowledged this. Owen teased her about it sometimes, though these days it was such affectionate teasing that it barely deserved the name. She clicked the mouse a few times, recompiling and rerunning the program.

The second time was the same; stuck at 53%.

“Well, let’s take a look at the translated part” she said, frowning.

When the message began to scroll, she couldn’t help but draw in a breath.

_HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP_

Quickly, she shut it off, slightly alarmed. “What about the rest?” she wondered. From what she could tell, it was an additional layer of data, hidden underneath the main message. Not that this helped much; when she let the untranslated message scroll beneath the main message, it was only a string of apparently random letters and punctuation, transcribed into the Roman alphabet – she could only assume accurately – but bearing no meaning she could discern.

“A code of some sort, then?” She was just about to set her decryption software running, when she heard a sound behind her.

Tosh flinched in her seat, whirling around to see Gray standing there.

And suddenly it was as though no time had passed, the place where the wound had been sending a sharp, remembered pain through her side.

She was aware of herself drawing her gun, aiming it at him as fear took over for just a split second. She was also aware of him shouting something, empty hands going up in the air. She faltered for a moment, panic warring with her rational mind; she managed to keep herself from firing the gun through pure force of will, her rationality kicking back in just as her finger was about to squeeze the trigger.

 _No_ , Tosh thought. Her heart was still racing, but he didn’t have a weapon, and he was Jack’s brother, and he was supposed to be recovering, and she _wouldn’t_ shoot him in cold blood no matter how afraid she was. He was saying something to her, but there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn’t hear. She tried to unclench her fingers on the gun, but she couldn’t make them move. Her teeth were gritted hard enough to hurt.

This was bad. She didn’t trust herself with a gun in this state. She just needed a moment, a moment to–

A moment out of time. That was it.

Well, no time like the present for a beta test.

Tosh pressed the yellow button on the pendant she wore, and the sucking pop sound of the time bubble expanding around her was nearly enough to jolt her out of the haze of panic. In front of her, she watched Gray freeze in place, as time for him slowed to a crawl and then stopped.

As the bubble around her stabilised, Tosh breathed out, lowering the gun slowly. She walked to the edge of the bubble, running her hand through the place where time slowed and inspecting the ripple in the air. Trying to steady her breaths, she wondered if the transition region was too wide, and whether it would help to reprogram the chip with a modified exponential tail-off coefficient. _Maybe it would be better if_ –

She squeezed her eyes closed, and opened them again. Gray was still there, frozen in place. She couldn’t distract herself from that for much longer. She wondered why he was up in the Hub, rather than downstairs in the basement room to which Jack had moved him from the cell. Jack had assured her – slightly apologetically – that it was only temporary, that he wouldn’t be in the main space during work hours. She looked Gray up and down, wondering if he somehow really had escaped, and was trying to kill her again.

But in this instance, it didn’t seem like it. He was dressed in different clothes now; he looked almost like he belonged here. She wondered when that had happened. And there was something different in his expression compared to then, she thought as she came as close to him as the edge of the bubble would let her. More open, less filled with single-minded purpose and darkness. Still cloudy-eyed, but somehow younger. In fact, looking at him like this, he reminded her much more of a younger version of Jack.

Except unlike Jack he really didn’t seem to have any weapons on him.

Tosh breathed out. It was okay, she thought. It was okay. Jack seemed to trust Gray, and if he trusted him, then... well. She’d already spent years trusting Jack with her life, and he hadn’t failed her yet.

Still, she kept one hand on her gun as she pressed the button and deactivated the time lock.

Gray stumbled, no longer frozen in time but going utterly still as she pointed the gun at him.

Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it wasn’t what came out of his mouth.

“That message” Gray said. “Someone needs help.”

She frowned. “What?”

“That” he said, indicating the scrolling message. “It’s a call for help.”

Tosh gritted her teeth, wondering how long he’d been watching her. “I mean, I think that was pretty obvious from the first part. You know, the part that read _HELP HELP HELP HELP_...et cetera.”

“What? No.” Gray pointed at the untranslatable part. “That.”

She blinked. “You can read that?”

“Yeah” he said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. “I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, banging pots and pans together outside RTD's house at 4am: if you're gonna introduce these characters' family members into the narrative you have to be ready to COMMIT to that shit  
> (For real though, I crave more Jones-Davies fam content, so I'm putting them in this as much as I can. Also, Gray is my weird, awkward, damaged-but-healing space son now, I guess??? Of all the characters I never expected to stan........)  
> Also, Tosh is getting an adventure of her own, because I Love Her™  
> Anyway, hope you're enjoying this??? I'm having fun, anyway!


	7. Chapter 7

Tosh raised a questioning eyebrow. “Well? What language is it? And why can’t my translation program get anywhere with it?”

“Because it’s not... really a _language_ ” said Gray. He had an odd expression on his face; if Tosh hadn’t known better, she might have said it was something like a smile, if a rather puzzled one. “I haven’t seen it in so long...”

She frowned. “Explain.”

“It’s more a kind of… code. Well, not a code, but a kind of set of symbols, used by sailors back – forward? – in my time. The ones who used to come in off the heavy tritium tankers would use it, when they came in from the interstellar runs. The dockers at the spaceport around the other side of the bay used it, and they would teach it to us kids if we hung around long enough. People said pirates and thieves used it too, to leave each other messages.” He really did smile this time, the expression sitting oddly on his face, as though he were out of practice. “We used beg our parents to let us take the skimmer and go over there just for that.”

“Why does the translation program render it as nonsense?”

“Because it’s not meant to be read as text” said Gray. “Each letter is translated fine, but you’re not meant to read it letter by letter.”

“So, what? A code, you said?”

“Sort of. You read each group of letters as a kind of... picture, with the shapes they make. Punctuation and accents, too. If you go back to the untranslated message...”

Tosh switched back to it, pulling up the underlayer of text that hadn’t been translated.

“See? That combination of letters looks like a ship, a bit. It means, some kind of travel.”

Tosh squinted. “Um.”

“And that one kind of looks like a face... frowning. Means something’s bad.”

“Oh, like emoticons!” Tosh grinned. “We have those! Owen likes to pepper them into his emails specifically to get on Gwen’s nerves. ...Though, I’m guessing these are a little bit more complicated.”

“Yeah, they’ve got multiple layers of possible meanings, to people who use the code a lot” said Gray. “I never got very far with learning them, though...”

“Well” said Tosh, “tell me what you do know?” She pointed. “What does that say?”

“It says...” Gray squinted. “This part says, in the bay. Underwater, I think.”

Tosh nodded. “That certainly fits with location of the Rift spike just now. What’s the rest?”

“A distress signal. A sort of... um, request for safe harbour. That has its own sign, here, it’s a sort of... tradition, I guess? Anyone would recognise it, growing up where we did.”

“Safe harbour” said Tosh. “Safe from what?”

“Um... this means a crash...” he frowned. “I don’t know what this next part means… I think I’ve seen it before, but...” he shook his head, looking troubled. “It was a long time ago.”

“Right. Well” said Tosh. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go and investigate.” She was already reaching for her things, putting her PDA into her jacket pocket and clipping her gun holster around her waist. She paused for a moment. “But I’ll need someone to translate… hang on, let me just call Jack, and–” but she broke off, as before she could do anything her comm clicked into life and she heard Jack’s voice, already speaking in her ear. “Tosh! Are you at the Hub?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Okay. That Rift alert just now–”

“Yeah, I was just going to head over there. Jack, there’s this signal–”

“Tosh, yeah, about that. I know what this is, I think, and it’s very important that you – _g_ _ah!_ ”

Tosh winced, almost pulling the earpiece from her ear as there came a clatter and a tearing sound, a long and unpleasant series of squelches and squishes overlaid by what sounded like several people yelling. Tosh grimaced. Gray gave her a questioning look and she shrugged, hoping to convey that she was just as lost as he was.

“Um... Jack?” she said tentatively. The link was still up, but she couldn’t hear anything now except for what sounded like sloshing liquid, overlaid by very muffled shouting.

Finally, she heard a weird liquid sucking sound and a rustle and then silence. And then a click, followed by Gwen’s voice, sounding weary. “Tosh! Still there?”

“Always. ...Everything okay?”

“Hmm, well. Little slime-related... emergency. Uh. I think we’re going to be a little late to that Rift alert...”

“...Is Jack okay?”

“Oh, fine. I mean, he’s dead, but he’ll be fine.” She could hear the wince in Gwen’s voice; it also sounded like she was running. “Or, I _think_ he’s dead? It was kind of difficult to tell...”

“What? Oh my god Gwen, what happened?”

“He got – ah, excuse me, coming through, yes sorry I know there’s a queue, sorry – he got swallowed by a runaway slime creature which is...currently making a run for the university campus cafe, for reasons best known to itself...”

It was Tosh’s turn to wince. “You should call Owen and Ianto for backup. They’ve got the SUV.”

“No, you should call them” said Gwen; in the background, Tosh could hear the screech of traffic, as well as more suspiciously gloppy sounds. “I’ll be fine, and you’re on your own there, aren’t you?”

Tosh darted a glance towards Gray, uncertain. She frowned. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it on my own” she said firmly.

“You sure?”

“Positive” said Tosh. “It’ll be easier to chase that thing down with the car. I’ll handle this.” She smiled to herself, despite everything. “Besides, if it goes bad, don’t forget... I can stop time now! ...For several minutes at least.”

“...God, Tosh, you have no idea how cool that sounds.”

“I do try. And it _is_ cool.”

“Yeah.” Gwen’s relief was audible. “You’re a star, Tosh. I’ll call Owen and Ianto. See you later.”

“Good luck with the slime.”

“Thanks.”

The call disconnected.

“Everything’s _fine_ ” said Tosh abruptly, to Gray’s questioning look.

He frowned, apparently unconvinced. She ignored him, tapping her fingers on the desk as she tried to figure out what to bring with her.

“Um… Toshiko?”

She turned, more surprised than alarmed this time; she hadn’t quite realised that he’d known her name before. But perhaps Jack had told him. “What?”

“While you were talking... I figured out what they meant” said Gray. “The other symbols there. But I don’t understand it.”

“Well? What is it?”

“They mean...” he frowned a little. “Someone’s being pursued. They... fear for their life.”

“Why? What’s chasing them?”

He shook his head. “It’s… there’s a number. Three. And then, a sort of a generic symbol. It just means...”

“What?”

“Nightmares. Or, maybe... monsters.”

Tosh breathed out. “ _Well_ ” she said. “I’d better take a look then, hadn’t I?” She put her gun into her holster, throwing on her coat over it. “Monsters are what Torchwood does best, after all.” She thought for a moment. “Stay here, please, and when they get back, tell them...” she broke off. “Wait. Wait, wait wait, damn. Okay.” She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth.

Because, she realised, she still needed someone who could translate. She sighed, forcing herself back to her senses. “Nope!” she said, as much to convince herself as anything. “No, I’m _not_ taking you with me. That would be very unwise. Very much not happening. I’ll find another way.”

* * *

Five minutes later, Tosh and Gray stood side by side by the marina. “Two rules” said Tosh, as she clipped on her life jacket over her coat. “One, do everything I say. You’re not a member of Torchwood, so I’m in charge here.” She offered Gray a hand, pulling him on board the boat. “Second rule...”

“What?”

“Uh. Don’t shoot me again.”

Gray nodded, gave a very slight smile. “I’m trying to put that behind me.”

She snorted, a little more at ease. Not that that was saying much. Instead she concentrated on untying the boat; it was a good boat, with a powerful engine for its size. It also had a small rainbow flag affixed to the top of the windscreen, fluttering in the breeze, which Tosh thought was a nice touch. The boat didn’t belong to Torchwood but to a nice elderly couple called Robert and Alfred that Jack knew from back in the sixties, who went out for trips around the bay on weekends and were happy for Torchwood to use it whenever they wanted. The one time she’d met them, Alfred had given her a Werther’s Original, of which he evidently kept a supply in his pocket.

Her train of thought – speculation about exactly how Jack had got to know those two was a pleasant distraction from the thought that she had no idea what was waiting for them at the end of this trip out into the bay – was interrupted by Gray coming to stand beside her.

Tosh started the engine and took them out onto the water. Once they were further out, she moved over to allow Gray to steer. “Take the wheel. I’m going to check in with the others again” said Tosh. She’d call Owen; he’d know what to do. Or he wouldn’t, but it would still calm her down just to hear his voice she knew.

“I... don’t know how to pilot this kind of... craft.”

“It’s not very hard. Here’s the PDA, it’s got the GPS coordinates.” She placed it on the dashboard. “Just keep us going in the same direction, we’ve got a while to go before we reach the signal.”

She pressed the button on her earpiece, but was met only with a crackling sound, before the line went dead. She tried again, with the same result. “Something must be jamming the signal” she said, fingers tightening on the wheel. “...I wonder if it’s anything to do with whatever we’re heading for?”

“Do you think this could be a trap?”

Tosh grimaced, resisting the urge to make a cutting remark. “The thought had crossed my mind, yeah.”

Gray looked at her and frowned. “But you’re still heading towards it.”

“Yeah, because it might _not_ be a trap.”

He stared at her for a good few seconds. Several expressions seemed to cross his face, and then he nodded as though what she said had confirmed something for him.

They went back to silence for a few more seconds, which Tosh could practically hear ticking away inside her head over the sound of the wind. Her fingers were beginning to get numb against the steering wheel, as a chilly mist of drizzle started up. “And you?” she said, when the silence began to grow uncomfortable. “If you think it’s a trap, why are you here?”

Gray didn’t answer, but as she looked sideways from the corner of her eye, Tosh could see him gritting his teeth, staring out to sea. “My brother said I needed to find a place to start.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t really know, yet” he admitted. “But I want to find out.”

They were silent for a moment more, each lost in their own thoughts, the silence loud despite the wind and the sound of the engine.

“…Give me one of your communicators” Gray said at last. “Let me try calling for backup again.”

Tosh didn’t answer for a moment, surprised by this abrupt change of subject. She pressed her comm again, trying to get through. Nothing. “Still not working” she said. “And even if it was, you couldn’t use mine. They’re locked onto the individual DNA signature of each member of the team, and it would take too long to take samples and make you a security key now.” _Even if I_ _had_ _wanted to_ , she didn’t say. “And no, you couldn’t have used a spare one of Jack’s because what the hell kind of security system would we have if the DNA scanner couldn’t differentiate between siblings? _Please_.” She was aware that she was thinking aloud again, talking as much to herself as to Gray. _Call it a nervous habit_. She gritted her teeth, her face beginning to get a little numb with cold as the wind and spray lashed against her skin, blowing back her hair. “Ah” she said, looking at the PDA again. “We’re nearly there. I’ll take it from here.” She nodded at Gray as she took over the steering again. “Thanks.”

He nodded, and they lapsed into silence again as Tosh stared at the horizon.

The engine was idling as the boat floated on the waves. “Well, this is where the Rift spike was. And this is apparently the origin point for the signal too, though I can’t see anything obviously broadcasting it...” she looked up into the sky; people always forgot to look up. But there was nothing there. “Whoever they are, they must have moved” she said. “Let me just–”

“There’s something!” Gray pointed. “Up ahead.”

Tosh squinted. Very faintly, she could make out something – possibly several somethings – on the surface of the water, the grey light of a cloudy day striking dull silver. But a moment later she thought it might just have been a reflection off the waves. She pulled out the PDA. “Let me just trace the signal again. Now we’re closer, I might be able to get a more precise origin point.” She set it going. “It’ll take a moment to run the trace, but–”

“Toshiko! Look out!”

Tosh shouted out in alarm, nearly dropping the PDA as Gray spun in alarm, staring at the water behind them. At first, she didn’t know what he was pointing at; there was a split second where she thought it was just a wave, a disturbance in the water.

Then she realised it was something coming up from underneath.

Something massive, breaching the water like a whale. But it didn’t look like any whale Tosh knew of; in the glimpse she had of it, its surface seemed irregular and twisted, with a mass of pale, lashing, whirling... _something,_ whipping the water to a froth as it rose.

She didn’t stop to stare. She was vaguely aware of Gray shouting something, but she was already starting the engine again, throwing the boat into a sharp turn and accelerating to its fastest speed; the thing would capsize them in a few seconds if they stayed here.

“It’s catching up!”

Tosh grimaced; the engine was struggling, with the way the water foamed and cavitated behind them. “I’m going as fast as I can!” She darted a look over her shoulder and felt a paralysing wash of dread; there was the thing, vast and pallid with a mass of roiling tentacles, pushing itself up out of the water with disturbing speed. As she looked, it let out an ear-splitting roar, a tearing, gurgling, alien sound that seemed to bore into the deepest part of the brain.

“Turn!” Gray shouted. He tried to grab at the steering wheel, wrenching it violently to the right. The boat slewed violently, throwing them both sideways and nearly tipping them out over the rail, flinging them both painfully against the side. Tosh grabbed instinctively at the nearest thing to hand to avoid being catapulted into the churning water, and realised a moment later that it was Gray’s sleeve she was clinging to, and that he had grabbed onto the hem of her jacket. She let go abruptly, and he did too, dragging himself up again and clinging to the hand grips by the passenger seat.

“What the hell are you doing? You’ll drown us both!” She grabbed the wheel back, turning them in a gentler circle, as the creature gained on them; it moved faster through the water even than could be reasonably expected from its size and bulk.

“I told you, I’ve only flown a waveskimmer before, not boat like this. The controls are different!”

Tosh gritted her teeth. “Obviously” she said. She stared at him for a second, then glanced over her shoulder. Whatever it was was gaining on them. She made a decision. “Well, it’ll have to do” she said. “Take the wheel.”

“What!?”

“Just _do it!_ ” She grabbed Gray’s wrist, put his hand on the wheel, and without looking, turned around in her seat and drew her gun. Grabbing onto the windscreen, she got up on her knees on the seat.

She was frozen in place for a moment by the sight of the thing behind her. It loomed huge and lumpen, with tendrils that seemed too narrow and sinewy for its bulk, a great vertical slash of a mouth showing curved teeth opening up in its front. Its form was covered in what she could only assume were eyes – they covered the body and the tendrils, blinking spasmodically with a pearlescent, milky sheen to them.

And though they had no pupils, she could tell instinctively that they were looking right at her as she raised her gun.

But before she could fire, a tendril lashed out towards her, missing her by inches as the boat turned to the right. She looked down at Gray, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Hey, you’re getting the hang of the steering!” she said. “Now, let’s – _ah!_ Hard left!”

“Hold on!”

She yelped and clung on with her free hand, nearly wrenching her arm out of its socket as another tendril came lashing towards them; just in time, Gray had turned the boat to the left, so it just missed them. She could see his eyes in the mirror, wide and afraid as she righted herself.

Somehow, Tosh had managed to keep a hold on her gun. She dragged herself up so she was standing by the gunwale, leveling the gun at the creature that was gaining on them by the moment, looming over the boat.

She aimed, forcing herself to hold her arm steady despite the boat pitching with the chaotic rhythm of the waves beneath. Jack had been the one who’d taught her to use a gun; it was one of the first things he’d shown her, after bringing her into the Hub for the first time and giving her the security keys for the computer system. She hadn’t known then how much she’d need to put the skill into practice, much less in a situation like this.

But just as she was about to fire there came a blue-white flare from behind her, ahead of the boat; the creature immediately screamed and reared up into the air behind them, showering them with seawater as its tendrils splayed everywhere, desperately trying to cover its many eyes with the translucent webbing between.

At the same time, Gray pulled the boat to a swerving halt, nearly knocking Tosh into the water again; as she grabbed for the side, she saw three small silver craft draw up beside them, skimming the very top of the water. Sat astride them were three people in dark suits and spherical, mirrored visors, with guns. One fired another blast of blue-white plasma, making the creature scream again, twisting away in pain. Tosh blinked away tears, the afterimage of the flare seared onto her retinas as she craned over at the three newcomers. As her vision cleared, one of them raised a second gun, smaller this time, and fired at the creature, now at the very rail of their speedboat.

This time there was no plasma blast but a minute dart that made contact with its side; it roared, shuddered, and then fell limply downwards over the rail.

Tosh screamed, shrinking back into the seat, absolutely certain it was going to crush them under its weight and bring the boat down with it.

But as it fell, it began to change. Even as it tumbled through the air, it was shifting shape, its many eyes blinking convulsively as muscle shifted beneath wet, pale flesh, shuddering and changing until it was…

...a person. A human form, falling limply into the back seats of the speedboat, sodden and unconscious. Tosh stared, exchanging a look with Gray; he looked just as baffled as she was.

“Stop! Put down your weapons and surrender the fugitive!” came the voice from the water.

Tosh caught her breath, and then her balance, levering herself up to her feet in the boat which was still pitching on the waves the creature had made. “Who are you?” she shouted across the water between.

“BCD Agent Zandra Nox, four-seven-eighth division. Claiming jurisdiction in this temporal location by fugitive extraction order seven-zero-one.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Tosh, suddenly suspicious. “You’ve got no jurisdiction here.”

“Jurisdiction provided by BCD fugitive extraction order seven-zero-one–”

“Yeah, I heard the first time” Tosh muttered. She turned to Gray. “BCD. Heard of it?”

His eyes were wide. “Yeah, BCD. Bureau of Civil Discipline.”

“That... doesn’t sound very friendly.”

“Hmm, you could say that, from what I’ve heard. I... think they were some sort of sister organisation to the Time Agency, but domestic. More covert, too. I never knew they really existed...”

Tosh rolled her eyes. “Great. So, we’ve got space secret agents pointing guns at us...”

He swallowed nervously. “We should be fine if we comply with their orders.”

Tosh frowned, jolted back the present as a blast of plasma went over their heads; a warning shot, she knew. She doubted the next would miss. “Alright! Alright! Putting the gun down now.” She did so slowly, making sure all her motions were visible, before straightening up and indicating Gray. “My... associate here is unarmed.”

“State your name and position.”

“Toshiko Sato. Torchwood operative. We claim jurisdiction over this Rift and, uh... surrounding... territories.” She looked at Gray in a _was that right?_ sort of way, but he just shrugged.

There was a momentary pause. “Records show the leader of the organisation known as _Torchwood_ on file as fugitive number two-six-three. Javic Piotr Thane, dishonourably discharged from the Time Agency before its dissolution. Wanted for theft, desertion, tax evasion, conspiracy to murder an officer of the law, harbouring fugitives, minor fraud, major fraud, resisting arrest, assault, perjury, minor mayhem–”

Tosh rolled her eyes. “This is Jack they’re talking about, isn’t it? That’s his birth name?”

Gray nodded. “Yep.”

“–Possession and sale of controlled substances, destruction of property, and violation of spacecraft parking regulations.” Another pause, and a blinking red light on the other ship. “Genetic scan shows positive match. Surrender both fugitives or we are authorised to shoot.”

Tosh and Gray looked at each other, and she groaned. “ _What_ did I just say about DNA scans...” She realised that the gun was trained on the two of them now. The plasma blaster, she realised, rather than the dart gun. She stared back into the visor’s blankness, at a loss.

And then she realised the PDA was beeping in her pocket; she hadn’t heard it before over the roaring, but the trace she’d started running earlier must have finished. As much use as that would be. But it brought her back to reality a little. She breathed.

 _Time_. That was what she needed.

She took out the pendant around her neck.

As she pressed the button, the time bubble expanded with a now-familiar, mildly comforting _pop_. It encompassed the boat and a little of the water on either side; it was disconcerting to see the water melding into stillness at the boundary. But Tosh wasn’t paying attention to that, nor to the frozen people pointing guns at her. Immediately, she pulled out her own gun again, jumping over the seats to point it at the figure lying inert on the back seat.

“I guess the part about the monster was right, at least” she said to Gray, approaching cautiously. “We should be careful.”

“…Yeah” he said, sounding doubtful. He peered over the front seat back, as Tosh inspected their newest passenger, her gun held ready for the slightest sign of trouble.

Not that there seemed to be much of that. The figure appeared to be a woman in her perhaps her mid-twenties, lying limp on her side. She was barefoot, wearing clothes of some thin, stretchy grey cloth, badly torn at the arms, legs and neck, and across the back. The skin that was visible was covered in bruises of every shade, fresh purple and older brown and everything in between, wet and slick from the sea, her brown hair plastered across her face.

Tosh checked her pulse, found it a little slow, but close to normal; just unconscious then. She could see the woman breathing, so that was probably fine; she set to looking her over for other signs, instead. That was when she noticed the woman was wearing a long elastic cord around her neck, on which hung a small object, slung backwards to hang down over her back.

Tosh frowned, picking it up and turning it between her fingers. It was a ring, she saw; dull pewter, with a large violet stone set in it. As Gray leaned forward to peer at it too as she turned it over in her hands, looking at the stone. It was pulsing with a soft light, a steady rhythm a little faster than a heartbeat.

In fact, she suddenly realised, it was pulsing exactly in time with the beeping signal of the PDA in her pocket. But before she could follow this thought to its conclusion, Gray made a soft sound in his throat. “That ring! I’ve seen one before.”

Tosh raised her head to look at him. “What? When?”

“It’s from my time.” He swallowed, looking sideways. “John Hart had one. It’s a kind of transmitter beacon. Meant for long range communication, but any device with fifty-first century tech should be able to receive it. Ah. I didn’t know that... then, but I found out later.”

Tosh caught her breath. Jack had told her about John, and the ring he’d thrown into the grave. “A beacon” she said. “You’re sure it’s the same thing?”

Gray nodded. “If not the same, then similar. His was green, and this one’s purple.”

“Hmm. Maybe...” Tosh took the PDA out of her pocket, a suspicion building in her mind. Sure enough, the location trace confirmed it. She raised her head, to look at Gray. “The signal” she said. “It’s coming from... here.” She looked down at the unconscious woman. “From... her?”

Gray frowned. “She was a sea monster, just now.”

“I know” said Tosh, suddenly fascinated. She looked back down at the PDA; the signal was scrolling across the screen again. “The coded message” she asked Gray. “Is it the same?”

He nodded, then frowned. “ _Monsters_ , it said. Plural.”

“The language has that level of detail?”

“There was a number, remember? ...Three.”

Tosh’s eyes widened, and she looked over the gunwale of the boat to where the three agents were frozen. “You don’t think...”

Gray looked too. “There’s more than one kind of monster” he said softly.

“Yeah” said Tosh. She was reminded suddenly of the UNIT soldiers who had locked her away, the prison guards that had patrolled outside her door, faceless and unyielding. She looked back down at the woman in front of them. There was a minute silver dart sticking in her throat; carefully, Tosh pulled it out and looked at it, before tossing it over the edge in disgust. “If these people who are after her are also after Jack, then personally, I’m on her side” she said. She smiled softly. “I owe him that much, at least.”

“...Yeah.” Gray frowned. “Ah. Can I ask you a question?”

“...Go ahead.”

“How did you meet him?”

She looked up at him, thinking about how to answer. “He saved me” she said at last. “I...uh.” She’d barely told anyone this, and certainly not the rest of the team; she’d barely know how to start. But Gray was just enough of an outsider that it felt... all right, somehow. “I made a mistake. Well. I was being blackmailed. Someone had my mother held captive and it made me reckless. I got caught, and sent to... a prison. There was no chance of me getting out, they were going to make an example of me, and... well.” Tosh felt her breath hitch in her chest, pushing down the old familiar fear. She shrugged. “But then there was Jack. He saved me from that, got me out, on the condition that I came to work for him. I’ve been here ever since. So I owe him my life” she smiled, a little self-consciously, “for what it’s worth.”

“I... I think... I do too. Owe him my life, I mean. He could have easily killed me. Especially after what I did to you.” His face crumpled a little. “At first I thought, maybe he should have.”

Tosh felt a rush of sympathy. “But now…?”

“Now–”

But at that point they were interrupted a yelp, as the woman lying across Tosh’s lap flinched back into wakefulness.

“Ah! Stay back!” The woman gasped a little, coughing as Tosh cleared the wet hair off her face where it had gone in her mouth. “Let me go, let me–”

“It’s okay!” Tosh exclaimed, a little alarmed as the woman scrambled away as far as the length of the seat would let her, wrenching the ring on its cord out of Tosh’s hands with more strength than one might expect to look at her. She clung onto it, cradling it close to her chest as she looked between the two of them, eyes darting. Soft brown eyes, completely human. Full of fear. Tosh raised her empty hands. “It’s okay, we don’t want to harm you! My name’s Toshiko” she said. “This is Gray.”

The woman paused, looked up from the ring and blinked a few times. “Oh, like the colour?”

“Yeah, like the colour” said Gray, with a slight smile as though he was remembering something long ago.

“That’s a nice name” said the woman vaguely. “Yours is pretty, too. _Toshiko_...” she smiled, as though savouring the sounds of words in her mouth. Her voice did sound a little cracked; Tosh wondered how long it had been since the last time she’d spoken.

“What’s _your_ name?” Tosh prompted.

“My name...” said the woman, fingers clutching desperately at the ring. She scrunched up her forehead as though trying to remember. “Emmeline” she said after a moment, nodding decisively. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Emmeline?” said Tosh. Emmeline was smiling proudly, as though she’d accomplished something in remembering it.

“Yes. It’s new, do you like it?”

“I... yes. When you say _new…_?”

A cloud of pain came over Emmeline’s face. “It was Oriel who gave it to me. She was always so clever... I was Subject MLN-583-delta before you see, but I never liked that one much. So Oriel gave me a new name, the same day she told me she was going to save me from that place.”

Tosh pressed her temples. “Let’s start from the beginning. Who are you? And how did you become…?” she tailed off.

Emmeline gave a tiny, wry smile. “How did I become a monster, you mean?”

“I didn’t say–”

“No, I am” she said, matter-of-fact. She sighed, pulling the cord with the ring on it into her hands, fidgeting with it in front of her. “I was... a genetic experiment. That’s why I’m like this. I’ve always been like this. I can transform into... that, if I want, and I can even keep my own consciousness while I do. I was getting good at it! But pain and fear...” she grimaced. “It can make me lose control.”

“...Oh.” Tosh was frowning. “But I still don’t understand, _why–_ ”

“I grew up in a government lab. They did...” she winced. “Things. Trying to make me stronger. I think I was supposed to be a new kind of soldier, but I don’t think I was what they wanted. They used to wipe my memory all the time, but I do remember some things.” She shuddered. “I remember it would always, always hurt.” She looked between the two of them. “And then, there was Oriel.”

“Oriel?”

“Doctor Oriel Jesson.” She smiled softly. “She worked there, but she saw that what they were doing was wrong. She waited for years, planning, earning their trust, waiting for the opportunity to get me out.”

“Out? Out where?”

Emmeline smiled. “That was the clever part. Oriel’s aunt had been a Time Agent, years ago. She’d heard the stories of this Rift, fixed to a specific spatial location on earth, a few millennia ago. A bit of a backwater, obscure, not somewhere they’d look. There were rumours though, rumours in the underground time travel rings that Oriel got in with, and around the bootleg spaceport. You had to dig deep, she said, but if you paid the right amount to the right people, you could find out about the Rift. But that wasn’t all she found out: she heard there was an ex-Time Agent who kept guard over the Rift.” Her eyes were shining with something like hope, Tosh thought. “We could disappear there, claim safe harbour with someone from our own time, and just...” she shrugged, “live. The BCD would never follow us there, Oriel thought.” Emmeline’s face froze, eyes filling with tears. “She was wrong.”

“They caught you?”

She nodded, sniffing. “It was an accident. They caught us leaving on the night that Oriel smuggled me out of there. She was wounded… I didn’t _want_ to leave without her!”

“What happened?”

She held out the ring, showing it to them. “She gave me the signal beacon, already programmed with the message. Then she pushed me into the Rift, before it closed.” She stared, voice hollow. “They must have followed me anyway, though. So it was all for nothing.”

There was a short silence. “It wasn’t for nothing” said Tosh. She made a decision then and there. “We won’t let them capture you. It’s all going to be okay.”

“How?!?” burst out Emmeline. “Tell me _how_ it’s going to be okay! Tell me...” she tailed off, her eyes going blank, her hands clutching at her face in panic. “Oh... she’s dead... she’s really dead and she’s _gone_ and it’s just me, and they’ve followed me and, and–”

“Oh, hush darling” said Tosh, quickly coming in to hug Emmeline. The tearing pain in the younger woman’s voice cut deep into her own heart. “Ssh. We’re from Torchwood. I know you probably don’t know what that is, but we have people on our side, people who can help.”

But this only made her cry harder. Tosh stroked her wet hair, with no idea what to do. She was conscious, too, that the time lock wouldn’t last forever.

And then, she saw something that made fear spill down her spine like ice water.

On Emmeline’s shoulder, shuddering with desperate sobs in front of Tosh’s face, an eye popped open in the exposed skin, milk-white and staring. Then another, on her back. On her arm.

They had to calm her down, Tosh knew, but she had no idea how. She looked over Emmeline’s shoulder at Gray, in panic. There was an odd look on his face, as though he were having an argument with himself.

“Gray...” she said.

All of a sudden he reached down and took Emmeline’s hand in his. As she watched, he turned it over so it was palm-up in his, and began tracing something in it; a symbol of some sort, over and over again. He dropped his head, whispering something in Emmeline’s ear, too quiet for Tosh to hear.

Gradually she went still in his arms, her breathing evening out. And then one by one the eyes on her skin began to close, sealing over with human skin. Until at last, the trembling in Emmeline’s shoulders eased off to steady breathing. And then it was just the three of them, sitting quietly in a boat enclosed within a bubble in time, holding each other.

Tosh stared at Gray over Emmeline’s shoulder. “That symbol” she said, indicating Gray’s hands, which were still tracing the symbol in Emmeline’s palm. “Was that...”

“Safe harbour” said Gray. He shrugged. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

Tosh nodded, gave him a smile. “Thank you. And Emmeline, I meant what I said” she said as she pulled back, wiping her face and turning to look between the two of them. “I... _we’re_ going to keep you safe.”

“B-but...” she wiped tears from her eyes. “They’ve got reentry-grade hoverscooters, and tracking-equipped vortex manipulators. They can follow me anywhere I go, even offworld. Not that I can go offworld... I don’t even know when the Rift will reopen! I’ve got nothing, Toshiko. Nothing!”

“You’ve got us. And we’ve got friends. I promise you, everything will be okay.”

Emmeline nodded, taking Tosh’s hand in one of hers and Gray’s in the other. “I believe you.”

Tosh stroked Emmeline’s hair, pushing it back off her face. “Right.” She squared her shoulders, trying to think what Jack would do. He wasn’t here right now, so she’d just have to improvise; luckily, she’d always been good at that. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry it's been a minute, I've been unexpectedly busy with irl things, and also working out one or two later plot points of this fic that I need to lay the groundwork for. (But that's spoilers!)  
> Anyway, hope you're enjoying this tentacle monster girl/emotional trauma recovery/found family content.... I know I'm having fun writing it. This is the first part of another chapter that I had to split up into two because it was Too Long, so expect the next gap to be much shorter (and also for the rest of the cast to make an appearance!)


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you sure this will work?” said Gray, sitting down at the wheel as Tosh looked out across the water, stationary peaks whipped by the wind, as though frozen by a sudden frost.

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t” said Tosh, shrugging. “Let’s go over it again. First of all, we need backup. Emmeline, you said that the BCD agents have radio-jamming technology?”

“Yeah. That’s why your comms stopped working when you got close, I guess.”

“But this transmitter ring is tuned on a different frequency range than the one they’re jamming.” She held it up, looking at it from every angle again before putting it on.

Emmeline nodded, looking slightly sad. “That’s why Oriel went to so much trouble to get hold of one.”

Tosh nodded too. “So, if we’re quick we should be able to call the Hub – or Jack’s wrist strap – with the ring, before they realise.” Tosh indicated the ring; it fit best on her middle finger, where she put it on now.

“Yes.”

“But first we have to open the time lock.” She gestured. “You can’t transmit a signal when time doesn’t exist.”

“Obviously not.”

“Right.” Tosh held up her PDA. “There’s another Rift spike due in about… hmm, nine minutes. Sort of like an aftershock from the previous one. Smaller, but it should be enough to push those three through...as long as we don’t miss it. In the meantime, we keep them busy.”

“Which is where I come in” said Emmeline.

Tosh nodded. “I’m sorry to have to use you as the distraction, but–”

“It’s okay.” Emmeline grinned, a little wryly. “I figure it’s what I’m good at.”

“That wasn’t the part I was worried about” put in Gray. “They’re pointing guns at us. As soon as this bubble thing comes down, they’ll shoot.”

She smiled nervously. “Well, we’re going to have to be prepared to move quickly then, aren’t we?”

He nodded, frowning down at the boat’s dashboard. “Okay. Yes. Yes, we can do this.”

“We’re Torchwood” she said determinedly. “We do this sort of thing all the time.”

“One more thing.” Emmeline was furrowing her brow. “Even once we get them through the Rift, how do we stop them coming right back? They have vortex manipulators, they can just...” she gestured, “jump back here.”

Tosh frowned. “That part I haven’t figured out yet. But hopefully by that time, Jack and the others will be with us and we can–” she was interrupted by the flash of a warning notification on the PDA, accompanied by a soft beeping from the time lock pendant. “Shit” she muttered. “The battery’s about to fail. We don’t have time to keep on–”

And then, the light flashed once, and the bubble imploded around them with a soft _pop_.

The next moment, everything was moving very fast. Bright blaster fire shot overhead as Tosh pulled Emmeline down into the bottom of the boat, her head knocking against the plastic side and making her vision go white for just a moment. But by then they were already gone, the wind tugging at Tosh’s hair as she dragged herself up. Gray glanced over his shoulder at her, and she gave him a thumbs up.

“Toshiko! Gray!”

Tosh glanced back so quickly her neck hurt at the sound of Emmeline’s voice, shouting into the wind. She winced as she saw the young woman half-kneeling on the side of the boat, steadied by one arm, her wet hair streaming out wildly behind her. More blaster fire came at them, hitting the water and sending it up in boiling spurts, but a slow grin was spreading across Emmeline’s face. “About time for that distraction now, I think. And... thanks.”

“Be careful–”

A grin, and a nod. “See you on the other side.”

With that, she dived off the side of the boat.

And as she did, her body began to change.

Tosh watched, fascinated, as white eyes opened all over Emmeline’s skin, flesh rippling and stretching underneath as though the muscles were rearranging themselves, tendrils and alien protrusions bursting out of the human form.

The creature she had become thrashed the water into a froth around it and let out an unearthly scream.

But Tosh only watched long enough to see two of the flying dots of the agents’ hoverbikes – dark against the shifting grey of the cloudy sky – turn in midair as Emmeline sped away from the boat. The third one split off, carrying on after them. She gritted her teeth. No time to lose then.

“Gray” she said, coming to sit beside him. “Give me the wheel. You need to send the message.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Jack knows the symbol language too, right?”

He nodded. “Maybe... not as well as I do, but–”

Tosh frowned; something in his tone had been odd just then. “What? Why would you know more than–”

“Doesn’t matter” said Gray quickly, accepting the ring and turning it over in his hands. “What should I say?”

“Location, number of people chasing us. Uh, tell them as much as you can get across about Emmeline’s... situation, but make sure you let him know she’s on our side. Also, time and location of the Rift spike–” she pulled her PDA out of her pocket, only hesitating a moment before handing it to him. “Here.”

He nodded, getting to work on the ring, twisting a minute dial on one side as Tosh sat down in the driver’s seat. It was quiet for a moment more, or at least as quiet as it could be with the roaring of the wind and the boat’s engine.

Then Tosh heard Gray shout out in alarm, as the report of more blaster fire rang out behind her. She darted a look back to see Gray ducked down behind the seat, one of the hoverbikes gaining on them.

“Fuck” Tosh muttered to herself. “Gray, try and return fire! Take out the bike if you can, and they won’t be able to tail us so easily!”

“I don’t have a gun!” he yelled back.

Tosh blinked. _No, of course he didn’t_. She frowned, thinking of him standing there in the Hub, shooting her at point-blank range with that awful empty look in his eyes.

She turned back; Gray was ducking behind the seats again, dodging a few more blasts of plasma sent his way. She bit her lip, drawing her own gun from its holster. “Catch!”

She threw and watched nervously for the drawn-out second as the gun sailed across the short length of the boat; time seemed to slow down as Gray jumped and stretched upwards, and then–

–Then he caught it out of the air, at the exact same moment as light flashed, blaster fire exploding, lighting the surface of the water. She heard him shout out in pain, turning back in time to see him dropping back down into the boat.

“Gray!”

A short pause. Then, “It’s fine! I’m okay, it just caught – _ah!_ – caught my leg. I’m–” there was a pause, and she heard gunfire – the sound of her own gun, as well as the strange reversed _thwoop_ of the plasma blasters – and saw when she looked back that Gray was behind the seats, returning their fire.

And then, an explosion. She turned back again as she heard Gray shout in triumph, in time to see a flaming hoverbike falling out of the sky. But the sound turned to a yell of fear as the agent vanished from the falling bike, hand on their wrist strap, appearing instantly standing on the seat at the edge of the boat. Towering over Gray who was still crouched down low, a gun pointed at his head.

Tosh didn’t think; she wrenched the wheel to the side, sending the boat careening to the left. Evidently the agent wasn’t expecting it either, because she heard a yell, and then a splash, and then Gray laughing.

“Right over the side! Thanks!”

“Hey, it’s what we do” she said, the words leaving her mouth before she thought about their implications. She was about to add something when in her peripheral vision she saw the other two hoverbikes firing down at Emmeline near the shore; even at this distance, she could see by the way Emmeline’s tentacles were waving in obvious distress who had the upper hand.

“We should go back there, draw their fire” said Gray, coming up to stand beside Tosh again. Silently, he passed her the ring again, and she nodded in acknowledgement as she put it in her jacket pocket.

She turned the wheel, beginning to bring the boat around. “Just what I was thinking. Buy some more time until the others turn up. They’ll have got the message by now.”

He nodded, handing her back her gun. “Oh. Thanks for this, too.”

She took it, keeping it drawn with one hand on the wheel as they made their way back. “How’s the wound?”

He grimaced, turning so she could see a shiny red weal on the side of his leg just above the knee, jeans burned through and the flesh scorched beneath. “Just a glancing blow. They’re not very good shots, at least.”

“Are you in pain?”

He grimaced. “I’ve had worse. I can still walk.”

“...Okay. But you should still have Owen look at it when this is all done.” Still, Tosh bit her lip; she didn’t know how long he’d be able to do this wounded. And there was another problem: they would run out of bullets soon, she knew. And already she could see one of the hoverbikes peeling away, coming towards the two of them, straight ahead.

And then, she had an idea. A mad idea, perhaps. But probably not madder, on balance, than anything else that had happened today.

She took a deep breath. “Gray.”

“What?”

“Take the wheel. When I give the signal, turn right. As sharp as you can.”

“What are you–” he broke off. In the corner of her eye she saw his eyes go wide as he watched her climbing up to the left side of the boat. But she wasn’t looking at him; she was concentrating on the hoverbike, gaining on them by the second. “Toshiko...” he said. “Whatever you’re going to do–”

“It’ll work” she said, more confidently than she felt. This was the sort of thing Jack would do; the sort that the rest of them would call him a reckless immortal idiot for for days afterwards. But Jack wasn’t here right now, and besides, it was all she could think of.

“Don’t–!”

But her eyes were trained on the hoverbike, the shine of the agent’s blank visor staring back at her. The agent was close in front of them now and above, bearing down with blaster drawn. And now almost exactly above; slightly to the left. She gritted her teeth, muscles tensing. Calculating, estimating trajectories and altitudes, probabilities, before taking a deep breath and pushing it all aside. “ _Now!_ Turn right!”

And despite his protests, Gray turned right.

The sharp jolt of the boat turning nearly threw Tosh over the side in itself, but at the same moment, she _jumped_ , flinging herself upwards with all her strength just as the hoverbike flew over the boat. She grabbed on, arms going around the agent’s waist. The momentum sent the hoverbike rolling, a great, dizzying circle, losing altitude so it was almost skimming the tops of the breakers. Tosh gritted her teeth as the agent took one gloved hand off the controls, wrenching her wrist back in a painful lock; their grip was very strong, stronger than their wiry frame might suggest.

Tosh cried out in pain, clinging on with her legs; she hadn’t meant this, she’d meant to knock the agent off the hoverbike and fly it herself, but of course... of _course_ it had gone wrong. She struggled and fought, making a grab for the controls as her mind flashed through all the options available to her. _Time lock, gun, comm,_ _transmitter ring..._ none of them very useful. She pulled back, screaming in pain as the agent grabbed her arm, pushed it up behind her back.

She hadn’t intended this; she’d intended to push the agent off into the water and take the bike, but instead she was scrabbling to get away from their grip, and as she did so losing her balance by the moment. She teetered for a second, feeling the spray against her face as they skimmed the surface of the water.

And then, with a final wrench of desperate strength her arm came free. Apparently, the agent was caught by surprise, because Tosh heard them gasp underneath the visor, losing their grip. The bike swayed sideways as the two of them fought for balance.

And then they were falling, tipping sideways off the still-moving bike, launching them into the briefest moment of freefall before they hit the waves. The cold shock of the water was like a physical blow, knocking the air from Tosh’s lungs. But still she held on, fingers clenching tighter to what she was holding, barely aware of what that even was. Amongst a maelstrom of bubbles, she saw the agent raise their hand to their wrist, pressing something there as the two of them tangled together, and then–

–And then they were somewhere else; on the shore in fact, lying on hard concrete. The wind and the light on her soaked skin were almost as disorientating as the water a moment ago, but Tosh managed to keep enough presence of mind to scramble to her feet, pushing her wet hair off her face to see the agent with the flap of their wrist strap flipped open, springing up. They had teleported here Tosh realised, drawing her gun. At the same time the agent drew their blaster, the two of them aiming at each other. Tosh’s back was to the water, the agent in front of her with their back to the land.

But despite it all, Tosh couldn't help but grin. “Perfect timing” she said, glancing over the agent’s shoulder. “Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

Then she jumped out of the way as a mass of translucent purple slime came rolling down the dock, enveloping the agent inside it with a slight sucking sound before rolling to a stop just short of the water.

Tosh smiled, picking herself up as she saw the SUV skid to a stop with a flatbed trailer attached behind, Owen and Gwen pushing an open wheelie bin. A moment later Ianto appeared, one of Jack’s arms flung around his shoulders, helping him out of the car in what looked like a semi-conscious state. All of them were varying degrees of covered in translucent violet slime, she dimly registered as they ran up towards her, but she didn’t care; she ran straight to Owen, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“Tosh!” he said, holding her tightly. “Jack got your message–”

“Ughhhh, what is this _stuff_ you’re covered in–” she pulled away, slightly regretting the hug already, though not as much as she would have had it been anyone else. Hastily, she pulled herself back to the moment at hand. “I didn’t send the message” said Tosh, “it was Gray, and he’s still out there. With Emmeline. We need to help them!”

“Who’s Emmeline?”

“Um... tentacles.” She waved her arms, “there’s no time to explain now. We need to save them both!”

Owen looked utterly bemused, opening his mouth as though to speak.

“We’ve got incoming! Must be the other two agents.” interrupted Ianto, struggling to draw his gun across his body with his free hand. Tosh followed his gaze; indeed, she could see the last remaining hoverbike coming in fast towards the shore, with two figures riding on it. “Jack–”

“Don’t!” Jack gritted out. Now they were closer, Tosh could see his skin was blotched with what looked like chemical burns, angry and red. “Let me talk to them.” He turned to Gwen and Owen. “Oh, and please someone do something about that whole... situation.” He indicated the slime creature. Through its translucent outside Tosh could see an upside-down human figure, still struggling vaguely. Jack winced. “That stuff’s not nice to be in for long, and these acid burns are pretty nasty.”

At the same moment the speedboat came to a halt at the edge of the dock. Gray leapt out over the side, running towards them.

Jack smiled. “Gray!” he looked his brother up and down. “You okay?”

Gray frowned a little. “...Yeah. Mostly.” He seemed almost surprised by the answer. “You?”

Jack made a face. “Gotta say, I’ve had better days.”

“Jack” interrupted Tosh urgently. “The agents… we had a plan to send them back. There’s another Rift spike, in...” she felt for her PDA in her pockets, realising Gray still had it at the same moment as he held it out in front of her. Probably for the best given her fall into the water, she thought. She glanced down at the screen, and as she did her heart sank, “...about twenty-seven seconds.”

Immediately Jack was paying attention. “Where?”

Tosh pointed out to the bay. “I’ve got coordinates, but Jack, it’s too far away, it’s–”

But Jack was grinning, going over to where Owen and Gwen were still struggling with the slime. They’d managed to haul out the BCD agent’s head and torso; they’d taken off the helmet to reveal a woman with a head of close-cropped blond hair, eyes rolled back into her head, apparently semi-conscious. Jack came over to look down at her, lifting her arm, unbuckling her leather wrist strap. “Good thing we’ve got this!” he said, holding it up in obvious delight.

“It looks the same as yours” said Owen, frowning.

“Except with short-range teleport, coordinate tracking and time-travel capabilities _enabled_!” said Jack, buckling it around his left wrist, clearly delighted. “Tosh! I’m gonna need the exact space-time coordinates of that predicted Rift spike.”

“Sending them now” said Tosh, pulling out her PDA.

“Right then.” Jack grinned. “See you in a minute.”

And then he vanished.

They all looked around at each other in the silence left behind afterwards. “When he says a minute...” said Gwen.

“Ten quid on it being over an hour” said Owen.

“Make that twenty, and five hours” said Ianto wearily, attempting to scrub slime off his suit.

But before anyone else could speak, there was a flash in the distance, from out across the water.

Tosh immediately glanced down at her PDA. “The Rift spike…!”

“What?” said Gwen, hurrying over nearly to the water’s edge to look. “What happened?”

“I don’t–”

And then she screamed. Because at that moment there was a flash of blaster fire above them, as a hoverbike popped into existence high in the atmosphere. There were two figures sitting astride it and a third falling, limp and inert, to the waves below, landing with a quiet splash.

Ianto rushed up to the water’s edge to stand next to Gwen. “ _Jack–_!”

Tosh grimaced. But before she was able to think any further, she gasped. “Gwen, Ianto! Get away from the water’s edge!” she yelled. The hoverbike was bearing down, and soon they’d be in blaster range she knew. Gwen tugged Ianto’s arm, but the blaster fire was already at their heels, striking dark char marks on the concrete behind them. If she could just–

“Toshiko! Look!”

She spun as Gray tugged her sleeve, and saw immediately what he was pointing at.

In the bay, a long pallid tendril had risen up, holding Jack’s body in its many-eyed grasp, streaming with rivulets of water. But as she watched another clutch of tendrils shot upwards, fast as a striking snake. Snatching hold of the hoverbike in the air and wrapping around it with great strength and a furious roar. A moment of struggling, thrashing and blaster fire later, the tentacles swung the bike and its riders around, and around again in a circle, to the sound of screaming coming closer and closer to the shore.

“Tosh! Get down!” Owen was at her side suddenly, pulling her close to him, behind him, as though to shield her with his own body. “It’s got Jack, but you’ve got to–”

But she caught his hands. “Owen... Owen! It’s okay, it’s okay, she’s a friend, she’s–”

“A friend! A _friend_?!? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Stop! Owen!” he had drawn his gun, and was pointing it up at Emmeline now. “Stop, I can explain–”

“Tosh, you’re the cleverest person I know, obviously, but that there’s a bloody eldritch horror of the deep, and–”

“Ssh, Owen, trust me and just... look!”

And after a moment he did, staring upwards into the sky just in time to watch the tentacles holding the bike spin in a circle like a shotputter and then slam it down, straight onto the shore.

Straight into the mass of purple slime that was writhing by the upended wheelie bin, sinking into it with a horrible sucking, squelching sound.

Owen stared, as Tosh winced.

As they watched, silence fell; a silence in which Emmeline carefully used her other tentacle to lay Jack’s body down on the shore, scorched in places and sodden all over. Dead, but intact. Tosh slipped her hand into Owen’s as they watched Ianto and Gray run over to him, Gwen standing up to talk to Emmeline as she reverted back to her human form, swaying a little on two legs as she leaned against the door of the SUV.

“See?” said Tosh. “Told you it was going to be all right.”

“...Huh” said Owen, squeezing her fingers in wonder. “Well, you don’t see that every day.”

* * *

It was not as hard as Tosh had feared to get the three BCD agents out of the slime, given that after few minutes it began to writhe and twist. Presently, the lumpy purple mass had vomited them up onto the concrete spontaneously, in a top contender for one of the most disgusting sights Tosh had ever seen in her life.

“Well” said Gwen, standing over the three of them, hands on her hips. “What now?”

“Now–” said Tosh, staring down at her PDA, “I think we should cuff them, and maybe tie them up with the boat’s painter for good measure. At least until Jack comes back.”

“Cuffs are in the SUV” said Ianto. “Unless... Jack sometimes keeps a pair in his coat pocket, in case–”

“ _Nope_. I can sense you’re about to give me more information than I want to know, Ianto,” said Gwen hastily. “Let’s just stick to–”

But even as she said it the middle agent jerked awake, sitting up and scrabbling for a gun that wasn’t there. It was the one Tosh had fought before, the young blond-haired woman, sitting up quickly and scanning her surroundings.

But Gwen was already bearing down on her, gun pointing at her head. “Ah-ah. Don’t try anything.” She nudged one of the other agents’ legs with her foot – none too gently – and he groaned, before twitching awake and half scrambling to his feet, largely ineffectually as he slipped in the goo.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at him, as the third agent – a slightly older woman with a long red braid – woke up too. “I said, don’t try it mate. Now, I’m going to offer you a choice. Get the hell back to where you came from, or we’ll lock you up here. And if you try to make a fuss, we’ll kill you.”

The blond woman glared, hands raised as she helped pull the other two to their feet. Tosh could see them looking at each other. Apparently even they had to acknowledge that they were unarmed and outnumbered. “We’ll be back” the woman snarled. “Back with reinforcements, back with warrants for the arrest of everyone here on charges of harbouring–”

“Except you won’t.” Jack’s voice broke in from behind them. Tosh turned to see him finally dragging himself to his feet, leaning heavily on Ianto’s arm for support. Parts of Jack’s skin were still blistered an angry red from the acidic slime, blaster burns healing over as they watched, and his voice sounded ragged and pained. But he was alive again, and there was a fierce, rallying intensity to him as he held himself steady, that somehow made the rest of them gather closer around him. “This place isn’t under the jurisdiction of the BCD.” He smiled viciously, nodding at the agent's wrist strap. “Extra-temporal operations were the purview of the Time Agency, apart from exceptional circumstances. Oh yeah, I know about the bureaucratic process you guys have to go through to get hold of those. But you’ve got no real power out here, and you know it.”

“The Time Agency was shut down.”

“Yeah, but its function sure wasn’t transferred over to _you_. It was judged an unwieldy and ineffective force, its reach in time and space too ambitious to be practical. Also, rife with brutality, and abuse of fundamental rights, not that anyone cared about that. So, really, not unlike you guys.” He glared.

“You’re an exile. You know nothing.”

“Ha. I may live out here, but I get a fair bit of contact with the fifty-first century, considering. Especially lately.” He tilted his head, giving the agent a cold smile. “Basically, no time agents were having much success arresting anyone, so the government said, _once a criminal’s gone from our time, they’re not our problem_. So, back to my original point: not. Your. Jurisdiction. Got it? Now I suggest you go back home and fill out some goddamn paperwork. I got some of my own to do too.”

The agent, Tosh thought, seemed to be faltering. “This Rift is a dangerous temporal anomaly of grade–”

“Yeah, and it’s not your problem. This. Rift. Is. Protected. By _me_. Now, I’d appreciate you getting the hell off my patch, and away from my people.”

There was a long, ringing silence.

And then the agent’s arms shot out to either side – making each of them flinch, reaching for their guns – and grab the wrists of her partners. A moment later, the man pressed something on his own wrist strap.

And then, all three were gone.

There was a moment of silence.

Ianto breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as he lowered his gun. “Well. I guess that’s – _ahh!_ Gwen, look out, slime incoming–”

“Ohhhh, for god’s _sake!_ ” yelled Gwen, already springing into action as the purple blob began writhing again, making a distressing groaning noise. “Right everyone. We do _not_ want a repeat of the pet shop incident from earlier...”

“Heaven forbid” said Ianto, rolling his eyes and going to get the wheelie bin.

* * *

Back at the Hub, several hours – and several showers – later, Tosh held out the transmitter ring to Emmeline. “Here. It’s yours.”

“Oh...” Emmeline stared at it sitting in Tosh’s palm. Then she sighed, pushing Tosh’s hand away, closing her fingers over it. “No. I want you to have it. Call it a thank you present.”

“Me…?”

“Well. All of you, really...” she beamed around at them rest of them. “But I think you could do good with it.” She looked back at Tosh, standing up on tiptoe to kiss her on the cheek, squeezing both her hands. Tosh blinked a few times, a little caught off guard. But before she could say anything, Emmeline had moved on to Gray. “You too” she said, giving him a hug that he clearly wasn’t expecting, and then a kiss on the cheek of his own. “You were so good. Thank you.” She took his hand in hers, tracing a quick pattern on his palm, before dropping it back down to his side.

He nodded, clearing his throat a little awkwardly.

Jack was smiling, a big and sappy grin, coming up to Emmeline and taking her hands in his. “Even if you’re set on going, we’re always here” he said. “You know the Rift frequencies to lock on to.”

She nodded. “I know. Thanks” she said, before glancing up at the sky. “But there’s all of time and space...”

He smiled even bigger. “Yeah” he said, giving her a big hug. “Yeah, I get it.”

She furrowed her brow, looking back at Tosh and Gray again. “Oriel would have loved it, you know. She used to tell me stories about things she’d read about, the great sights of the universe… I always thought she’d be here to see them with me. But I guess she’d want me to go, anyway. Who knows what I’ll find out there?”

Jack let go of her hands, though not before giving her a quick pat on the wrist, on top of the leather strap they’d taken from the BCD agent. “Go on, see the world” he said. “From what Tosh told me, it sounds like you’ve lived in the dark long enough.”

“Thank you.” Emmeline pulled back, and with a last smile, pressed a button at her wrist and vanished.

There was a short silence after she disappeared in which Tosh and Gray exchanged a glance, breathing out at the same moment.

“Well” said Tosh, “guess it’s over, then.”

“Yeah.” Jack looked at them. “But as for you two...” Tosh bit her lip; she wondered if she was about to get told off. But instead Jack’s face split into a grin. “C’mere” he said, pulling them both into a hug with one arm each, before she could protest. “I’m proud of you both!” he said, as she exchanged a glance with a slightly stunned-looking Gray, behind Jack’s back. “You did good out there.”

“Yeah, well... improvisation” said Tosh, smiling faintly.

“She did most of it” said Gray, bringing up a hand to wrap around Jack’s back tentatively.

“He helped, though” said Tosh. “ _And_ he knows how to drive a speedboat now! ...Sort of.”

“I’m… getting there” said Gray. As Jack pulled back to look between them both, even Gray was smiling a little.

“Yeah?” said Jack. “Well, you know, there’s always an extra space on the team...”

“Is there?” put in Owen, coming up to stand by them and folding his arms. He still seemed suspicious, defensive in the way he stood close to Tosh. “We haven’t lost anyone, and I’m not planning to if I can help it–”

She put her hand placatingly on his arm. “Owen. It’s okay. Really.”

“Well” said Jack, glancing between the rest of them, apparently sensing the slight unease in the room. “We don’t have to talk about it now. In fact, you know what we need to address, before anything else?” He grinned. “We should order pizza.”

Ianto smiled, already picking up the phone. “Already on it, sir.”

* * *

The pizza was long finished and Tosh was just packing up her things to go home when she saw Gray by the water tower, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, looking up. She frowned, thinking about how it was only this morning she had set off the time lock, alarmed by him appearing in the Hub. Now, though, she came over to him, careful to let her footsteps sound on the grating so that she wouldn’t startle him.

“How’s the wound?”

Gray looked over at her, hand going to his bandaged leg. “Feels better after Owen dressed it. And the stray nanogenes in here should help it heal quicker.” His brow furrowed. “Owen doesn’t trust me. I mean, I understand why, but...” he winced, spread his hands out in front of him, “he doesn’t trust me, and yet he helped me anyway. _That_ I don’t understand.”

Tosh smiled. “Owen’s a doctor” she said, unable to hold back an affectionate smile. “It’s his job, and he’s very good at it.” She breathed out. “...I know that’s not what you meant though.”

“Yeah.”

“He’ll come around. Give him some time.”

“He doesn’t have to come around” said Gray. He was looking at the ground, arms folded. “He doesn’t have to forgive me.”

“No” said Tosh, tilting her head. She wondered how much they were still talking about Owen. “But I think… I think he will, anyway.”

He looked up at her, a small smile on his face, and nodded. “I’m glad.”

He made to turn away, but before he could, she caught his arm, pulling him back. He only flinched a little before turning to meet her gaze again.

“Um. Something I’ve been wondering” said Tosh. She suddenly felt a sense of doubt, as though this might be overstepping. “That language, the symbols... you didn’t just learn that from the sailors when you were a child, did you?”

Gray tensed, jaw clenched as though in pain. “Not... only them, no.”

“Who taught you?”

“...There was this girl. In… that place. A few years older than me...she was born on a ship, her parents were merchant sailors. She sort of… looked out for me. She did with all the little kids there. She lost her younger siblings in the raid where she got captured... she was the only one who survived being taken.”

“...Oh.”

“She tried to fight, but they took her. She’d...” he looked away from her, up at the ceiling, gesturing vaguely. Tosh could see the glint of tears in his eyes, hastily blinked back as he mimed tracing a symbol on his own palm. “She’d do that. For me. When I hurting, letting my anger at my brother... all the pain... um. When it was burning me up.”

Tosh was silent for a moment. “What was her name?”

“...Kerrin. It was Kerrin.”

“What happened to her?”

Gray shrugged. “What happened to anyone there? She died. Of an infection. It was better than them taking her to... wherever they took people, at least. Or, that’s what people said.” He rubbed at the brand mark on the side of his jaw, apparently unconsciously. “It was a long time ago.”

Tosh nodded. “Well. I wanted to say, uh. Thank you.”

He blinked at her. “For what?”

“For helping me today.”

“...Oh. You’re welcome.” They were silent for a moment more, as he fiddled with his hands.

Finally, Gray burst out. “...Um, I should just come right out and say it... sorry I shot you. Before, I mean.”

Tosh nodded. “I think... I think it’s okay” she said, spinning the transmitter ring around her finger thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve always believed in second chances.”

“Yeah. I think I’m starting to as well.”

* * *

A little later, Jack found Gray sitting on the highwalk below Myfanwy’s nest. “Been making friends?” he asked, coming to sit down beside him. It almost felt like when they were children, sitting on the breakwater and staring out to sea.

Gray looked at him. “Maybe” he said. He glanced upwards at the pteranodon, now curled up asleep. “It’s nice up here. Quiet.”

“After today you’re coming to value that around here, huh?”

“...Maybe. It was a lot.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a little while longer.

“Hey. Javic?”

He took a moment to react. “Hmm?”

“They all call you Jack. Do you want me to call you Jack, too?”

He blinked, surprised by the question. “I...”

“When I call you Javic, there’s this look you get...” Gray gestured. “Like it hurts. So I wondered.”

Jack wondered, once again, at how they’d come from Gray stabbing him in the stomach and burying him in the ground, all the way to this. “Yeah” he admitted. “Yeah, my old name feels… strange, now. Like it doesn’t fit so well anymore.” He laughed self-consciously, running his hand through his hair. “Jack is better” he admitted. “Javic messed things up. As your big brother, and... in a lot of other ways. I’m trying not to do the same here.”

“All right.”

“What?”

“All right. I can call you Jack too, if you want.”

“…Yeah.” He felt a smile come to his face. “New start, right?”

“Yeah.”

A thoughtful sort of silence. And then Jack said, “and you... you still okay with being Gray Thane?”

Gray didn’t answer immediately. “...I’ve thought about it and... yeah. I think so.” A rare smile, or something approaching one. It made him look years younger, Jack thought. “One of us should keep something from back then. I’m gonna need some things to hold on to, after all.”

“Okay” said Jack, smiling. Cautiously, he put an arm around Gray’s shoulders; he didn’t flinch away. “Okay, let’s do that then.”

* * *

_**[Several hours earlier]** _

Rhiannon was already waiting outside the school gates when she heard the bell ring, frowning as she thought back over the day she’d had. She’d been close to panic this morning when David hadn’t woken up, but luckily he really did seem to have improved dramatically in the afternoon. She’d left him and Johnny watching the football, with strict instructions to call the GP’s surgery again if anything changed, never mind what Ianto might say. But David had seemed happy enough, so maybe that really was that.

Which left her wondering about the rest of what had happened today; the way Ianto had acted when she had phoned him was... confusing, to say the least. He said there was likely nothing wrong, but he’d also come straight from work – he _never_ did that, in fact he was always begging off family commitments because of his job, something she decided right there and then to call him on in the future. And then later, when she’d had a moment of doubt and tried to phone him back, then he hadn’t answered at all, not even her texts.

But it wasn’t just that, Rhiannon thought. The way he’d come, driving that big black car – the same one he’d brought the children home in last night, with that distressingly handsome man in the big coat driving – and then with the supposed doctor who didn’t look or behave like any other doctor she’d ever met.

The whole thing, Rhiannon decided, was very Men In Black, right down to the headsets they’d been wearing. She wondered if Ianto’s office all had them; must be an even posher place than she’d thought, if they just gave out tech like that to all their staff. Why did they need them anyway? She tried to remember what Ianto had told her about where he worked, and came up with... not much at all. Civil service. Desk job. Filing and making the coffee. Still, she supposed, she’d never actually shown that much interest in it before. Maybe she should–

But her thoughts were interrupted by Mica, running out of the school gates and flinging herself at Rhiannon’s legs. “Mum!” yelled Mica, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I want to go home, mum!” She was clearly upset about something, Rhiannon realised. Immediately she felt on edge again, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

She took Mica by the hand, leading her towards the car. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Mica was scowling at the ground. “Miss Wells didn’t like my story” she groused. “But it was really good! I worked really really really hard on it and she just told me off! I drew pictures for it and they were good too! But she didn’t like those either!”

Rhiannon frowned. “Well, that seems strange. I’m sure it was lovely” she said, unlocking the car. “What was the story about?”

Mica squished up her face, rolling her eyes with the most put-upon look a six-year-old could achieve as she took off her school bag, threw it into the back seat, and got in after it. “It was about what I did at the weekend! But she said it wasn’t what the assignment was about, even though it was!” Mica complained, already rummaging busily through the back seat pocket as Rhiannon got in the driver’s seat.

“Well, what was the assignment supposed to be?” Rhiannon said, not starting the car yet but turning around to look. “No, _not_ the kitkat, or you won’t be able to eat your dinner” she said sternly, as Mica came up from the seat pocket.

“Aw, mum!”

“You can have the juice. Not the chocolate. No, don’t give me that face Mica Davies, we’re having fish fingers tonight and you’re not to get full up on chocolate. Now, tell me what happened with Miss Wells?”

Mica pierced the juice carton with the straw and drank a little bit, looking slightly mutinous. “She said I wasn’t supposed to make up stories for _what I did on my weekend_ assignments. But I didn’t make it up! I only wrote about going to visit Torchwood and meeting uncle Ianto’s friends!”

Rhiannon had been about to start the car again, but instead she paused, turning back to Mica. “Torchwood?” she asked. “What’s Torchwood?” The name sounded oddly familiar, something she’d seen recently, but for a moment she couldn’t place it. She also realised then that if her brother actually had _friends_ , then this was the first she’d heard about it. In fact, before yesterday she hadn’t met anyone else he knew since he moved back to Cardiff. Or even heard him talk about them, now she thought about it. Since Lisa had died she hadn’t liked to ask, and he hadn’t exactly volunteered the information.

Mica looked confused. “Um. Torchwood’s the place where uncle Ianto works?”

“...Oh. Right, of course.” As soon as Mica said it, it came back; _Torchwood_ had been the name etched onto the side of that big black car, as well as on the earpieces that Ianto and Doctor Harper had been wearing. “So it is” she said. “So, why didn’t Miss Wells believe you?”

Again, the eyeroll. Rhiannon was sure Mica had picked that habit up from spending time with Ianto. “She said it didn’t make sense that there was a secret lift that went down from the water tower. And she didn’t believe me about the big computers or the weird fancy machines or the nice American man in the big coat like he was in an old black-and-white film, and the nice lady who’s a computer hacker, and _especially_ not the dinosaur!” She folded her arms. “She didn’t like my picture either, even though I worked really hard to get the wings to look right!” Mica reached down and rummaged in her school bag and pulled out a drawing of a roughly sketched pterodactyl, coloured in with crayons, as well as five adults and two children, a mug of hot chocolate, Mica’s handwriting unevenly squashed in between. Over the top, someone had written a lot of red pen comments.

Rhiannon blinked. “Well, it is a good drawing” she said, “but, Mica–”

“Miss Wells said pterodactyls aren’t alive any more, and I said that was wrong and it was a pteranodon not a pterodactyl, and her name is Myfanwy and she likes chocolate, and Miss Wells said to stop being silly, and I said my uncle Ianto told me about the chocolate and he knows a lot of things so it must be true. And she said maybe my uncle was joking with me and I told her I saw it, and she said to stop being silly, and I said she was a poop head and she gave me detention tomorrow.” Mica crossed her arms, glaring and squeezing the juice carton a little bit too hard in her indignation.

“She gave you detention?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, Mica. You know you shouldn’t call your teacher a poop head.”

Mica peered up at her. “Even if she is?”

Rhiannon gave an exasperated sigh. “Even then.”

Mica toyed with the juice carton, chewing her straw noncommittally.

Somehow, Rhiannon sensed that this wasn’t all there was to the story. “Mica. Look at me.”

“Mum...”

“Mica. What else happened?”

Mica muttered something, too quiet to hear.

“What was that?”

“...I pushed Vicky Lewis off her chair” said Mica, in a very small voice.

“ _Mica_ _Davies_ _!_ ”

“She was being mean and kept saying I was being weird and making things up! But it’s true!” Mica looked about to cry suddenly. “Mum, can you phone uncle Ianto and get him to come to school and tell them I was right and Vicky and Miss Wells were being stupid? I don’t _want_ to go to detention!”

Rhiannon sighed. “Mica, I’m not going to phone my brother and ask him to do that. You understand that don’t you? And anyway, you pushed another girl. I thought you knew better than that.”

“But I was _right_! Everyone says you’re always supposed to tell the truth, and I was just doing that!”

Rhiannon looked at the drawing, looked at Mica’s face, and sighed. Maybe this was also a stress response to yesterday. She wondered for a moment if she really _should_ phone Ianto. But no, it would probably only make him feel guilty, and it wasn’t like there was much he could do anyway. “Come on, let’s go home” she said, starting the car. “Your dad and brother will be wondering why we’re taking so long.”

In the rear-view mirror, Rhiannon saw Mica fold her arms, staring out the window in a huff.

Much later that night, after they’d eaten dinner – rather tensely, today – Rhiannon sat down at the table and opened up her laptop.

As it was whirring to life, the door opened behind her and she heard Johnny’s voice. “Coming to bed?”

“Soon” she said, frowning. “Go on, I’ll be along later.”

As he left she opened her browser window and stared at it for a moment, before typing a single name into the search bar.

_Torchwood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Something something everyone gets a life-changing field trip with Gray etc.~~
> 
> Anyway yes hi, hope you liked this chapter! Emmeline is my official fave friendly occasional eldritch horrorterror......
> 
> Also, it'll be the start of a new(ish) arc of this fic next time, so look forward to that, but I did want to include a little bit of it as a sort of epilogue to this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

_**[Three weeks later]** _

Tosh was pacing the walkway in the med bay. “And you’re _sure_ this’ll work?” she looked down nervously at Jack, checking the defibrillator over one more time, and Owen, lying back on the examination table.

Owen raised his head. “Stop it Tosh, you’re making me dizzy.” He patted the side of the table. “Either come down here or stay up there, but stop running around like a headless chicken, will you? ...We’ve had more than enough of that around here recently.”

“...Sorry” she said, coming down to stand beside Jack. She picked up Owen’s hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “And you’re completely sure the nanogenes are... done with fixing you? There’s no chance it’s not been long enough–”

“We’ve already given it longer than the Doctor said, just to be safe. It’s been a month and a half” said Jack. He was using the voice Tosh had heard him use to placate skittish aliens. He laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Owen’s checked everything. Twice.”

“Three times.”

“Three times. It’ll be fine.”

“Besides, can’t get deader than I was before, can I?” said Owen, grinning. Despite everything, or perhaps because of it, he seemed buoyed up by excitement today, happier than she’d seen him in a long time.

“You probably _could_ , actually” muttered Tosh, biting her lip. “...Sorry. I know, I trust you. And you, Jack.”

“Good” Jack said, turning back to the paddles. “Now, Tosh, you’re gonna need to stand back, unless you want several hundred volts through that hand. No, not down here. Get up the stairs, with Gwen and Ianto.”

She nodded, giving Owen’s hand a last squeeze. “Love you” she muttered, and smiled when Owen winked back at her.

She backed up the stairs until she was standing in between the other two, who had filed onto the walkway to watch. Silently, Gwen put one arm around Tosh’s shoulder. A few seconds later, Ianto did the same on her other side. Held close between the two of them, she felt a little calmer. And when she glanced back to look at the door to the main part of the Hub, she saw that even Gray was peering around it, poking his head in to meet her eye and give her a tentative, encouraging smile. She gave him one back and turned to watch, trying to breathe steadily.

She tensed, gripping the railing so hard her knuckles went white as Jack applied the paddles, Owen’s body convulsing off the table. And again; he had to do it three times, before–

“Ha! We’ve got a pulse!” shouted Jack as the monitor beeped into action. “Now, breathing...”

She made to run down the stairs as she watched Owen’s eyes roll side to side, as Jack did CPR. But Ianto held her back. “Stay here” he said. He seemed tense, but confident. “Jack knows what he’s doing. He’s saved a lot of people.”

“But I can help with–”

“ _Ah!_ ” they all started at the sound of a ragged, gasping yell.

“Whoa there!” said Jack, stepping back and grinning, staring at the monitor as Owen grasped his wrist hard enough to bruise. “Yeah, heart restarting? Nasty sensation. The breathing doesn’t feel great either, I’m afraid, but–”

“Jack… _Tosh_ ” gasped Owen, and this time Ianto and Gwen did let her go, running down the stairs so fast she almost slipped on the tiles. Jack smiled, stepping back to check the readings as she grabbed Owen’s hands, bunching them between her own. They were still cold and clammy, his blood not yet flowing long enough to warm them, but her fingers at his wrist were met with a pulse. She laughed, tears flowing down her face. “Welcome back!”

“I was never really gone” he said, sitting up. “Well... for a while maybe, but...”

He was scrunching his face up in a thoughtful sort of way, but there was a smile under it that he couldn’t quite seem to keep in check. It was too much; she couldn’t resist pulling him into her arms and kissing him. She was dimly aware of Jack cheering and Gwen making a sort of cooing noise, but it all faded into the background as he kissed her back, arms coming up around her and holding on as though he’d never let go.

She had no idea how long it had been when they broke apart; both their faces were wet with tears, though whose she didn’t know.

“ _Well_ ” said Owen, flexing his hands at either side of him, swinging his legs down off the table as Ianto and Gwen came down to join them, “guess I’m back. Jack–”

“Come here” said Jack, pulling him into a hug against his chest. He ruffled Owen’s hair. “Good to have you back. Now don’t go dying on me again, you hear?”

“Thought I’d try and avoid it, yeah” said Owen, grimacing.

“What’re you going to do now?” said Gwen, looking speculatively between Owen and Tosh.

“Now...” their eyes met. Owen opened his mouth, looking, for a half a second, deeply vulnerable; almost afraid, she thought. And then his stomach rumbled, long and low.

Tosh laughed. “Oh my god, we need to get you some food!” she said. “You haven’t eaten in months! ...Well.”

Owen tried gave her a sidelong look, but he was grinning too much for it to work properly. “Actually, yeah. I’d kill for a cheese and pickle sandwich right now. With chips, and ketchup on the side.”

“We’ll get you whatever you want.” She turned to Jack, grinning. “Can I have the rest of the day off? I want to take Owen out to eat.”

“Rest of the day, huh?” To his credit Jack barely leered at all, though in the background she heard Ianto's muffled snort. “Out to _eat_ , you say?”

Tosh exchanged a look with Owen, who had raised his eyebrows at her, half-smiling. “We’ll see where it takes us.”

“Go on, then” Jack winked at them. “Rift’s quiet today anyway. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

“Doesn’t narrow it down much” muttered Owen, hand going around Tosh’s waist as she walked him up the stairs.

As they left the Hub, for the first time in months she was filled with the conviction that everything might just end up all right.

* * *

It wasn’t until later that night that Owen let himself break apart.

Hours after they’d left the cafe on the corner, after they’d gone back to Tosh’s flat and everything that had happened then, when they were finally curled up together in Tosh’s bed. He’d realised – too late – how unused he’d got to physical sensation, and there were several times in the last few hours that he’d come embarrassingly close to bursting into tears with it.

And maybe not just physical sensation either. Though the feeling of their exhausted bodies, warm and sweaty but relaxed, pressed together under the duvet in the afterglow was undeniably good. But even then his beating heart felt strange, the feeling both nostalgic and new. Again he fought the urge to cry, pressing his face against Tosh’s neck instead, blinking soft tears against the damp hair pressed there.

She pulled away, propping herself up on one elbow and staring down at him amongst her pillows. She touched his cheek. “Owen? What is it?”

There it was, the question. He knew it had an answer, he just wasn’t sure he could articulate it quite yet. “Ahhhh...”

“Is it... a lot?” she said. “We could... I don’t know. We could take things slower. I mean, _I’m_ happy, and that was...” she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth for a moment, eyes glazing over slightly at the memory, before forcing herself to focus again, “but you... you came back to life today. Properly, I mean. I’d understand if this is too much, and–”

“No!” he interrupted, and meant it. “No, really, Tosh. It’s not–” he gritted his teeth, frustrated. “It’s just... I don’t know, Tosh. I don’t know what to do. Now it’s like things I do _matter_ again, and–”

“They always mattered, Owen. You know that, don’t you?”

“No, but that’s it. When I was dead... it felt like I was waiting. Just hanging around, like death forgot me there. And nothing I did bloody mattered at all, and...” he raised a hand, covered his face, slightly alarmed to find himself choking back a sob, “maybe that’s why I was so shitty to you, that time–”

“I told you, I forgave you for that ages ago.”

“Yeah, I know. But it still _happened_ , Tosh. It still happened.” He wiped a tear from his face rather savagely as her arms went around him, and tried to stifle the sound rising in his throat at how good it felt to be held.

“Well, it’s okay now” she said. “It matters, Owen. You matter. ...To me, obviously, but also to the world.”

He raised his head to look at her face. “Yeah” he said, “yeah, I know. And do you know how fucking scared that makes me?”

She touched his face, looking a little surprised by the amount of tears there. He looked away from her, roughly wiping the dampness away with embarrassment, but she caught his hand. He hadn’t intended to get like this; rationally, he knew he should have guessed that being brought back to life would make him messy and hormonal. Or maybe that was the sex, specifically with a woman he was currently a little overwhelmed with the strength of his feelings for. But _everything_ felt overwhelming, was the thing; tastes and colours and smells, the texture of the sheets against his body. The touch of Tosh's skin and the sheer vital warmth of her. The feeling of having a heartbeat again, of having hers close, matching its rhythm.

“Owen” she said. “Look at me.”

He looked.

“It always mattered, Owen. And it always will.”

“That doesn’t really... reassure me, Tosh. Like I understand what you were going for, but...” he shook his head. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ , though” she insisted, not letting up. “I nearly lost you, and I didn’t, so I’m going to try to do better this time. To do more.”

“You don’t need to do more, Tosh.”

“But I want to. Either of us could still die at any time, so...”

“Cheery thought.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “The point is, it’s a second chance. Think of it like that, okay? No more, no less than before. Starting afresh.”

He smiled up at her, brushing back the hair from her forehead. “That’s... actually yeah. That’s better. Thanks, Tosh.”

She smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “Any time” she whispered against his lips.

* * *

True to Jack’s word, the Rift had been quiet today. After Tosh and Owen had left, the Hub had been even quieter. Jack was in his office taking a long phonecall with some stubborn civil servant or other, and Ianto was somewhere around too, though Gwen couldn’t see him right now. Up above she could see Gray sitting on the walkway near the ceiling, next to Myfanwy’s nest. Otherwise though, it was only Gwen in here, and the place felt suddenly very empty.

In light of all this, Gwen was thinking of packing it in and going home soon. She smiled to herself, already thinking of Rhys’s face when she turned up early; he’d be happy to see her home first, for once.

Still, it was only half past three, so she should probably make at least a token effort to do something constructive first. She swept past her station, peering into her empty coffee cup. She made a face, picking up as many other cups and empty glasses as she could find scattered around the desks and on the coffee table, stacking them together to wash up. Then she made her way down to the coffee machine.

“Ianto, I’ve got–” she broke off, seeing that he wasn’t there. She frowned, setting down the crockery and pulling up the feed from the archives; that was always the next most likely place to try these days if you were looking for Ianto. She smiled affectionately as she reflected on how she’d never met a person who genuinely enjoyed filing as much as Ianto did.

Sure enough, there he was, hunched in front his computer screen downstairs. But she frowned at the image of him; there was something in his posture, a defensive squaring of his shoulders as he stared down at the display.

She frowned, hand halfway to her earpiece; she should make sure he was all right. But at the same moment the bell from the tourist office rang. As it did, Gwen saw Ianto on the video feed flinch a little, staring fixedly at the screen in front of him.

Now that was a little odd. She touched the button on her earpiece. “Ianto? Someone’s up in the tourist office. Want to get it, or should I?”

“Gwen...” she seemed to have taken him by surprise, but after a moment he seemed to gather himself, taking a deep breath. “Gwen, let’s just ignore this one, okay?”

“Ianto. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” the rather alarmed pitch to his voice belied his words. “Nothing, it’s fine, we’re closed. They’ll go away.” The bell rang again from the tourist office, and she saw his grainy outline on the CCTV twitch once more.

“Right, stay there” said Gwen. “I’ll get it.”

“Gwen! Gwen, Gwen, no, _don’t_. I promise, it’s just...”

“What?” She paused by Tosh’s station, pulling up the feed from the tourist office. There was a single figure in there; a woman, late twenties or early thirties Gwen thought. Dark hair, jeans, a handbag and a brown jacket. Currently inspecting the leaflets beside the door. As Gwen watched she leaned over the counter, on her tiptoes to try to see if anyone was in the back. She didn’t seem to be looking in the direction of the secret door at all. Gwen frowned, switching the feed back to Ianto, who had got up and started pacing beside his desk.

“Alright, I won’t” she said. “But I’m coming to you, okay?” She switched off the display, making her way to the archives.

She found him there in the same place, still standing; his hair was sticking up a little at the front, as though he’d been running his fingers through it.

“Ianto” said Gwen, coming closer, though still keeping the desk between them. More for his sake than her own. “ _Ianto_. You’re acting weird. You understand that worries me, don’t you?”

He made a noncommittal sound, not meeting her eye.

She folded her arms, not backing down. “What’s wrong, Ianto?”

He stared at her for a moment, hands on his hips. Then his shoulders slumped, and he sighed, pointing at the computer screen.

Gwen came around the desk to look. It was the feed from the tourist office again, and the same woman was there. They watched as her hand hovered over the bell on the counter, as though trying to decide whether to ring it again, drew back awkwardly, dithered some more. Pulled out a piece of paper from her handbag – an A4 print-out, though Gwen couldn’t see what was on it – squinted at it for a moment, then put it back. Then, hesitating for a moment more, the woman looked furtively all around her. She seemed about to go behind the counter, then drew back and walked back to the door again; she seemed undecided. But she didn’t leave.

Gwen looked at Ianto. The slight confusion she was feeling paled in comparison to the alarm on his face. “Who’s that? Do you know her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know her.” He laughed nervously. “Gwen, that’s my sister.”

* * *

Rhiannon hesitated by the door, feeling a bit stupid. The sign on the door of the tourist office was turned to “open” but there was only so long she could wait around here on her own; it was just as she had thought. Completely normal. She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She should probably go home soon. Johnny was picking up the kids from school, but he’d think she was going crazy if she told him she’d been out here to try and verify what was – to all intents and purposes – really just a bunch of conspiracy theories she’d read on the internet.

Not that she was entirely certain she _wasn’t_ going crazy. That was the thing about this _Torchwood_ stuff. When she had first started looking into it she’d dismissed it as just that; conspiracy theories, aliens and scifi stuff. People with too much time on their hands.

But the more she read – and she had read as much in the last few weeks as she had been able to find time for, despite her own misgivings – the more she had to admit there might, just _might_ , be something in it.

Weird things happened in this city, was the thing. That much everyone in Cardiff was aware of on some level. Not that she’d ever paid much attention to it. But when she’d first looked up Torchwood after that conversation with Mica, Rhiannon had been directed to a whole community of blogs that catalogued it. At first she’d scoffed at it. There were outlandish stories, the emotional testimony of a man who said his date had turned out to have fins, spines and scales, a woman who swore up and down she’d seen a clutch of fuzzy yellow caterpillars hiding amongst the bananas in Tesco’s. Size of rabbits, she’d claimed, and there was a long thread of comments speculating on their possible origin. Just recently, a man claimed he’d seen a purple slime monster fighting a kraken down by the docks. There was even someone who said they’d woken up on a Saturday morning, covered in larger-than-human handprint bruises with three fingers, with a fresh bouquet of red roses on the bedside table and no memory of the last forty-eight hours.

If you asked Rhiannon, that last one had sounded like an average night out in the city centre. But at any rate, none of that was what had convinced her to come here today.

Not that she was coming here because she actually believed a single bit of it, she told herself sternly. No, she was coming here to confirm to herself, once and for all, that it really was a pile of bullshit. Which it was, of course.

But there was, she had to admit, one part of it all that was... hard to reconcile. Because amongst the alien stories, amongst the conspiracists and crackpots on the internet, she’d seen something that had made her sit back from her computer screen, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her eyes, squinting at the grainy pixelated camera phone photo in disbelief.

Because there was a picture of her brother there. Sitting in this very tourist office, smiling good-naturedly. And when she’d dug a little deeper she’d found others, whole blogs full of it. _Tourist Office Cutie_ , they called him: the small, tight-knit community of his fans, who all seemed to have raging crushes on him, she was a little distressed to note. She’d thought it was just someone who looked a lot like Ianto at first, but there was really no mistaking it; he’d worn that exact tie to her wedding.

And whenever #TouristOfficeCutie was mentioned, the comments always led back to the rumours about aliens. About Torchwood.

And then, there’d been that other photo too; another figure in the weird internet mythos surrounding this was the man with the ridiculous greatcoat. _Coat_ _Guy_ , they called him, and there were all sorts of strange stories and urban legends about him.

Of course, Rhiannon had recognised him immediately even though she’d only seen him once, in the driver’s seat of the car waiting to pick Ianto up from outside her house.

And of course there was a certain picture, one that provoked endless discussion of whether or not it was photoshopped. It was clearly taken out by the water tower, blurred and badly zoomed. In it, the man with the coat was leaning against the railing, staring over the water with the sun in his hair. With his back mostly to the camera, was Ianto – no, maybe it wasn’t Ianto, she kept telling herself, it must be someone else, because apart from anything else he looked happier and less guarded than she’d seen her brother, well, possibly ever – with his head close to the other man’s, their hands almost-but-not-quite touching on the railing. The way they were standing, it was impossible to see their faces in full, but they seemed to be laughing at something one of them had said.

And the way they stood close together, at an angle that looked for all the world as though they were about to kiss.

Or at least, that was what the internet seemed convinced of. Having gone through multiple pages of blogs, as well as the entirety of the hashtag #TOCxCG, as well as reams of alien stories, it was fair to say that Rhiannon had a couple of questions. And asking Ianto directly was the last thing she wanted to do. He’d probably say it was all stupid, tell her she was being ridiculous for believing any of this. And he’d almost certainly be right.

But still, she had to know. And so she stood in the tourist office, rocking backwards on her heels and contemplating pressing the bell a third time.

She stayed for a few minutes more, trying to surreptitiously peer over the counter to the back. There didn’t seem to be anyone in. She was just wondering whether she might nip around there and take a quick look behind the beaded curtain when there was a voice behind her.

“Can I help you?”

Rhiannon nearly dropped her bag, startled at the sight of the woman who had come through the door from outside. “No, I’m fine thanks, I was just going” she said quickly. “It says open, but there’s no one here.”

“Sorry about that. Gwen Cooper. I work here” said the woman, extending her hand with a big smile. Rhiannon looked doubtfully at the outer door, then at the beaded curtain that led to the back room, but her question was lost in Gwen’s strong handshake. “Now, can I help you with anything? I’ve got maps of the city centre, and leaflets for–”

“No, it’s fine” said Rhiannon, frowning. “I was just–” but she broke off as she heard a very faint klaxon start to wail, from somewhere she couldn’t quite place. It almost sounded like it was coming from many floors below.

At the same moment, something in Gwen’s pocket started beeping.

“Oops. Hang on a moment” said Gwen, with a weary smile. “My other job. Never get a moment’s peace, but–”

The rest of her words were lost as the door was knocked inwards off its hinges, exploding towards them. Rhiannon screamed, flinging herself sideways into Gwen as wood and glass flew in every direction, pushing her to the ground beside the desk, away from the thing that had crashed through. The two of them ended up on the floor, landing painfully in a heap, but safe.

Above them, a motorbike protruded from the tourist information desk, back wheel still spinning, engine roaring alarmingly before it died. But Rhiannon was barely paying attention to that, in comparison to the person – the creature? – riding it.

It appeared to be some kind of fish, was the first impression she got; red skin striped with white, and an odd, rubbery plume on top of its head. It was wearing an expensive-looking and rather tacky purple leather jacket, with red skinny jeans and a band t-shirt.

It had to be stage makeup, Rhiannon thought. _But why_ –

The fish raised its head from where it was slumped over the front of the motorbike and cackled at Gwen, contemplating the mess. “Oops. Sorry, was a little bit...” the fish swayed, and Rhiannon noticed its pupils were heavily dilated.

She watched Gwen pull herself to her feet, rolling her eyes and drawing a gun from under her jacket. “Typical. Bloody blowfish, I swear.” She shot a dart, which struck the fish in the neck, causing it slump forward unconscious again.

Gwen didn’t miss a beat; in the silence afterwards, she offered Rhiannon a hand up. “Thanks for pushing me out the way” she said. She shook her head, looking down at the fish. “Should charge her for damages. God knows these guys have the money. Usually stolen, of course, and normally they’ve spent it on coke and flash clothes within the hour, but worth a try.” She nudged the unconscious blowfish with her foot. “Oh, she’s one I recognise” said Gwen. “Hi there, Zelda. Fancy seeing you again. How’s that promise to mend your ways and turn your life around going?” Gwen turned, then looked at Rhiannon. “Oh, where are my manners? We were having a conversation, excuse me. Oh! Are you hurt?”

Rhiannon shook her head, stunned into silence.

Gwen nodded. “Good. I know a doctor but he’s a bit... tied up right now. Possibly.” She smiled. “Sorry” she said, gently. “Come on. I’ll get someone else to clean this up. We should get you out of here.”

Rhiannon blinked when she saw the earpiece that Gwen was wearing as she swept her hair to one side to push a button. It was identical to the one Ianto had worn, down to the word _T_ _ORCHWOOD_ emblazoned in capitals across it. “Hey” said Gwen, into the earpiece. “Clean up job for you… think you can handle it?” A short pause. Then Gwen nodded. “Excellent. Yeah. I’m going to take our guest out for a drink. It’s the least I can do, after all. Yeah. You’re welcome. See you later.”

She clicked off the call. “My colleague will clean this up” she said. She extended her arm. “Drink?”

Rhiannon frowned. “I should really be getting home–”

“Aww, come on, just a quick one” said Gwen. She looked around at the pieces of broken door, the unconscious fish person, and the wreckage of the motorbike. “...After all, you must have questions.”

Well, that was certainly true. “….Oh, go on” she said, taking Gwen’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, surprise early chapter! I wrote this because I was home sick from work today, so get well soon me, but also please accept this <3  
> Hope you're enjoying the fic! More soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supplementary note for those who haven't listened to the Big Finish audio story Broken, that's relevant to this chapter: in Broken, which is set during season 1, Ianto's mother calls him and tells him she has cancer. In Children of Earth, Rhiannon says to Johnny that they're the only family Ianto has left. So we assume that in canon, their mother died at some point before that CoE, most likely of her cancer.  
> (.....Luckily though, this is an Everybody Lives AU! More on that later though......)

“Thanks.” Rhiannon smiled up at Gwen as she handed her her drink; just J2O since she was driving. She took a sip as Gwen sat down on the next bar stool, taking a drink of her own pint. The pub was warm and noisy, but the two of them sat in silence for a moment; Gwen guessed that Rhiannon had no idea where to start with all the questions she wanted to ask.

“So” said Gwen, regarding her carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Rhiannon winced. “Bruised” she said. “But otherwise fine.”

“...Yeah. Never did quite figure out how to explain the bruises away, sorry. But that’s not what I meant.” She looked up at Rhiannon. “How _are_ you?”

“I...” she hesitated, nail scraping at the paper label on the bottle. “ _Aliens_ ” she managed at last. “Real, live aliens.”

“Yeah...” said Gwen, sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“…Thanks.” Rhiannon shook her head. “Do you know my brother?” she blurted at last. “Do you know Ianto?”

Gwen brightened at this. “Yes! Good friend of mine, a sweetheart really. Makes the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “The last time we both visited mum at home, he made ever such a fuss because she didn’t have anything other than Kenco in her house. The next time he brought his own coffee beans. Few years in London does that to a boy, I guess.”

Gwen laughed. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But _aliens_ , though” said Rhiannon, coming back to the present. “Real, live–” something else occurred to her. “Oh god. My kids were there. Mica wasn’t making it up... and that time David was sick… what happened, Gwen? That day?”

Gwen sighed, taking another sip of her drink. “Ianto kept them safe” she said simply. “He had to make a choice. Torchwood was the best place for them.”

“...Do... do you really have a pterodactyl?” asked Rhiannon weakly. “Is that real, too?”

“She’s a pteranodon, actually” said Gwen. “But yes.”

Rhiannon nodded. “And Ianto.” She kept circling back to him. “Is he... him and that other man, the man with the coat. Are they…?”

“I don’t know if that’s mine to tell” said Gwen, serious again.

“That’s a yes, then. Oh my god, I didn’t realise...” Rhiannon took another sip of her drink, looking thoughtful. Gwen supposed she was running through a back-catalogue of memories of her brother, in light of this new information. Gwen hid a grimace by taking a sip of beer; she _really_ hadn’t intended the conversation to go in this direction. Luckily though, it wouldn’t matter for very much longer. “Do you think I should talk to him?” said Rhiannon. “When I get home, I mean. Maybe I should phone him, tell him…. oh, I don’t know.” She frowned. “Oh. But of course I won’t say it was you that told me.”

Gwen cleared her throat, finishing her own drink. “I don’t know if you need to talk to him tonight” she said. “But the two of you _should_ talk.” She smiled gently. “I don’t have any siblings... I always wished I did. But you two’ve got each other.”

“Yeah” said Rhiannon, softly. Gwen could see her eyes slip out of focus slightly. “You know, ever since dad died...and with everything with mum...”

There was something about her tone that made Gwen pause. “What happened with your mum? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Rhiannon frowned. “Ianto didn’t tell you?”

“Oh, uh. If it’s a private matter–”

“No, no. It’s fine. She’s in the hospital right now, for another round of chemo. Breast cancer.”

“Oh” said Gwen. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright” said Rhiannon. “She’s got good chances of recovery, the doctor says. It’s just... well. Things are a bit uncertain right now.”

Gwen nodded. “I’m sorry” she said.

Rhiannon shrugged. “Not your fault” she said. She was frowning, a hand coming up to touch her temple. “...Sorry” she said. “Really. Maybe we can go back to talking about aliens? I promise I don’t normally... bring up stuff like this, when I’ve just... just... met someone.”

Gwen sighed, reached across and patted her on the arm, knowing it wouldn't be long now. “That’s okay” she said. “Tough day. It happens to the best of us.”

* * *

Several hours later Gwen walked into the archives, not bothering with a greeting.

“It’s done. I’ve put it right.”

Ianto had raised his head at the sound of her coming in, but at her words he seemed to relax, a little of the tension draining out of his stance. “Was Rhiannon okay?”

“She was fine, completely fine. I made sure she got home to her family after.”

“What did you do?”

Gwen folded her arms. “I did exactly what Jack did to me the first day we met. And it felt completely bloody awful, for the record. But it’s done. Don’t worry, I drove her home, made sure she was safe.”

Ianto winced so slightly she almost missed it. “Thank you, Gwen.”

She sighed, coming over to stand in front of him. “It’s fine” she said with a shrug. “It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

He nodded, looking down at the papers on the desk, picking up the pile and squaring off the edges unnecessarily. She saw his gaze linger for a moment on Mica’s drawing, pinned to the filing cabinet beside the desk.

“Gwen–” he began.

“Really, Ianto. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…” she squinted at him. “Have you told Jack about this?”

This time he really did wince. “He helped me with the clean-up in the tourist office... so yes, he was very aware of the blowfish.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He pressed his lips together. “No I haven’t told him, and I’m not going to.”

“ _Ianto_.”

“Look, Gwen. There’s no reason my family should cause us any more trouble. And...”

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Torchwood, aliens... I’ve always worked hard to keep all that separate from... family stuff. It’s better for everyone. You _know_ that, Gwen.”

Though his voice remained even, she thought she could hear a slight accusatory note there.

She sighed, thinking suddenly of her wedding. She wouldn’t take the knowledge of what had really happened from Rhys; indeed, her marriage and her life was a lot better off for him knowing about Torchwood. But it was certainly true that Jack’s assurance that her family wouldn’t have to remember had filled her with relief. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, Ianto” she said, deciding there and then to let it drop. For now. She gave Ianto a smile, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. “It’s late” she said. “And it’s over with. Try and get some sleep, hmm? You can talk about this with Jack in the morning.”

“I...” he seemed to freeze. “No, don’t look like that, I promise I will.”

She patted his arm again. “Okay” she said. “But only if you also promise to get some sleep, hear me?”

“You’re not my mum” he said, but he was smiling a little.

She grinned. “Small mercies” she said. Then she frowned, remembering what Rhiannon had told her. Sure enough, Ianto looked as though he regretted his previous remark almost as soon as he’d said it. “Hey. Your mum...”

“Oh. Did Rhiannon tell you about that too?”

“...Yeah. Look, Ianto, if it helps–”

“She’ll be all right” interrupted Ianto through a stiff jaw, staring straight ahead. “Chemo’s really good these days. Lots of people recover.”

“You never mentioned anything before.”

Ianto gave her a look. “I told Jack, a while ago” he said. He shrugged. “Other stuff to do though. And it’s not something you just...” he gestured, looking a little cornered.

Gwen nodded. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. When was the last time you saw her?”

He gave her a rather sharp look. “...Two weeks ago” he admitted.

“ _Ianto_.”

Again, he cringed slightly. “I know. Just... Torchwood, you know? It never lets up.”

“Don’t give me that, Ianto. You know Jack would give you time off if you asked him. He’s the one who’s always telling me not to lose my hold on my life outside this place.” She stilled his protest with a raised hand. “No. I think it’s something else.”

“What are you implying?”

“I think you’re hiding from it, Ianto. And I don’t mean to lecture you – and I’m going to ignore that face you just made – but I think you’re avoiding it on purpose. And you’re going to regret that one day.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Several expressions seemed to flicker across his face; annoyance and sadness and weariness, and something else she couldn’t quite place. But just as he was about to speak the door opened, and in came Tosh, with Owen just behind her. They seemed to be laughing about something together. “Ianto, remember that lumpy icosahedron-looking thing we found by the docks a few years back? I’m going to need–” she broke off, apparently sensing the mood of the room. “Oh. Did something happen?”

Gwen looked at Ianto. “No” she said firmly. “No, everything’s going to be fine. Isn’t it, Ianto?”

“Yes” he said, looking deeply grateful for the interruption. “It is.”

* * *

Rhiannon woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of the children shouting downstairs. She squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding sunlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains, and tried to remember what day it was.

Ah yes. Saturday. That was why the children weren’t in school. She frowned, rolling over to put her arm around Johnny, almost asleep again already. But his side of the bed was empty.

That woke her up a little more. Johnny was even less of a morning person than she was. She frowned, pulling herself up. Looking at the blinking red display of the digital clock beside her bed, she was a little surprised to see that it was 12:13. Not only that, but her head was hurting, aching as she moved, and her mouth was dry.

Rhiannon squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember what she’d been doing last night, but there was nothing. Which was odd in itself; she hadn’t been so drunk she couldn’t remember what happened to her for a whole night since Jenni Powell’s hen do in Majorca, and that had been years ago. Not that she particularly wanted to remember it, but it was the principle of the thing.

She pushed the heels of her hands over her eyes, blowing out a breath, and went to wash and dress. Coming down the stairs, she saw her handbag by the bottom step; there were the corners of some crumpled papers sticking out of it.

Ah, yes. She’d printed out some of the posts she’d been reading, the conspiracy ones about Torchwood. Stupid as it all seemed – and it was stupid, she told herself, there couldn’t be anything in it – she’d been planning on going there. Just to check of course. To put her mind at rest.

Her frown deepened. She’d been planning on going there yesterday afternoon, in fact; she remembered printing them out in the morning, and the time stamps at the bottom of the page showed she had. Why hadn’t she gone? She must have changed her mind, decided to go out instead. If only she could remember–

“Ey, woke up at last did you?” she stuffed the papers back in her bag as Johnny came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her a soft squeeze. “Have fun last night?”

She blinked. “I suppose so” she said, putting two slices of bread in the toaster.

“Your mum called” he told her as she started to fill the kettle. “Couldn’t reach your phone. She was worried.”

Rhiannon frowned. “Ianto never picks up his mobile and it’s _me_ she’s having a go at?” She paused, seeing his face a moment too late. “Oh. Is she... is everything okay?”

Johnny shrugged. “No better or worse. Think she just wanted to talk.”

“...Oh.” Immediately Rhiannon felt guilty. “Okay, I’ll go visit her at the hospital. Maybe buy some flowers on the way, to brighten up that little room they’ve got her in.” She looked at her watch. If she hurried, she could make it to the waterfront afterwards; she knew it was ridiculous to believe in half of this Torchwood stuff, but she wanted to put it to rest. Maybe then she could concentrate on more important things. “Should be back by evening.”

Johnny nodded. “I can drive Mica to that birthday sleepover, but can you watch David tonight? Robbie and the boys’re going to watch the rugby, down the pub.”

She nodded, grabbing her keys and giving him a kiss on the cheek as her toast popped out of the toaster. “’Course.” She patted his cheek teasingly. “Long as you come back in one piece.”

He grinned. “You too. Night on the town last night and all… you didn’t even text.”

“Sorry about that. I must have forgotten.” She frowned. “Won’t happen again.”

* * *

Gwen was helping Ianto haul a second unconscious weevil into the back of the SUV in an alley off Bute Crescent. It was a big one, and had given her a nasty punch in the left of her ribcage before they’d managed to subdue it, and luckily it hadn’t done much more harm than that.

Or at least in a manner of speaking. Jack was lying dead on the paving slabs beside them; Ianto had laid his coat over him like a blanket for when he woke up. From underneath it though, Gwen could see the scarlet spray that had now completely soaked his shirt.

They’d been unlucky today, was all. Everything had gone fine up until the moment when Jack had taken the killing strike to the jugular that had been meant for Ianto. Who was now looking rather pale and pained, silent as he helped heft the weevil into the car.

Still, she supposed, things could have turned out much worse. At least Jack would come back. She was just trying to judge whether he’d be back before they got to the Hub – they were right around the corner and in broad daylight too, maybe the weevils were getting bolder – when she saw Ianto’s eyes widen, his grip on the weevil slipping as he ducked down behind the SUV reflexively.

“Ianto?!?” At first she wondered if he was hurt after all; it would be just like him not to say anything. Then she glanced over the roof of the car and back the way he’d been looking, alarmed at the tension in him suddenly, hand already going for her gun.

But she relaxed as a moment later she saw a familiar silhouette at the end of the alley, framed by a lamppost and a closed-over loading bay.

With the angle they were at, she didn’t think Rhiannon would have been able to see Ianto, with the way he’d ducked down behind the car. But she’d certainly seen her, and the weevil’s head, which she’d been carrying while Ianto had the feet. And she’d definitely seen Jack; even from this distance, Gwen could see Rhiannon’s eyes go wide with horror as she saw a man lying motionless on the alley floor, blood soaking into his clothes and pooling on the ground around him, trickling down the gutters.

Gwen sighed, touching Ianto on the shoulder as he looked up at her. Well, she knew what had to be done, and their unspoken conversation – told through glances – confirmed it. “You’ll be okay with this one?” She indicated the weevil. “And Jack?”

Ianto nodded, looking pained. “Would you–”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze, trying to seem sterner than she felt; he looked a little panicked. “Yeah. But we’re going to talk about this, okay?”

He paused for a moment, making a face.

But before he could speak, Gwen saw the figure at the end of the alley move, out of the corner of her eye. Turning away. She gritted her teeth. “This conversation isn’t over, Ianto.” She said, as she ran to catch up with her. “Hey!” Gwen shouted as she rounded the corner of the alley. Rhiannon turned to look at her, clearly wary. Gwen pushed down her pang of guilt, putting on her most reassuring smile and extending a hand. “I’m Gwen Cooper. And you must have some questions.”

* * *

Rhiannon woke up on Sunday morning with a headache, and no memory of the night before. She sat up in bed, pushing back her hair; she’d slept in her clothes again. She’d done that last night too, she thought, but for the moment, she couldn’t remember why.

Still, there was no time to think about it now. She could hear the children’s voices from out in the garden, and the clock by the bedside table said it was past midday. She rubbed her temples, trying to remember what had happened yesterday. She’d been about to go out to the town centre–

– _Ah yes. Torchwood_. She made a face. She really was too old to be paying attention to stupid rumours on the internet, but–

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Rhiannon winced as sunlight from the hallway fell onto her face, as Johnny pushed open the door. “Morning” he said, staring pointedly at the clock.

She rubbed her eyes. “Morning. ...What’s wrong?”

“I was about to ask you that” Johnny was frowning. “I’m fine with you going out, Rhi. I don’t mind missing going out with my mates sometimes. But can you text next time?”

“...Yeah” she said. “Yeah, sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

She frowned. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yesterday? Won’t happen again, you said. And then, off you go, out with not a single word–”

“What’re you talking about?” Rhiannon folded her arms.

He snorted. “You know very well.”

“No I don’t!” she said, irritable. Her head ached.

He squinted at her for a moment. “Fine. Have it your own way” he said. “I’m off out then.”

“Fine” she all but snapped at his retreating back. She got up, began to hunt for some clean clothes. Whatever was going on, she was going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Rhiannon stood by the railing, looking up at the water tower. She watched the water rush, the wind blowing her hair into her face a little.

This place, she thought. This place had to be the centre of it all. Alien conspiracy theories be damned; there _was_ something strange going on. She was almost sure of it now.

That was when she got the phonecall. She barely glanced at the caller ID as she flipped open her phone, and then did a double take, her heart suddenly in her throat.

“Hello?”

“Good afternoon, is this Mrs Rhiannon Davies?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is St Helens Hospital, reception. I’m calling about your mother.”

* * *

“...Okay. Yeah. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Ianto set down his phone on the desk with a click, trying to quell the nervous nausea that had started as he spoke. He got to his feet, putting on his jacket and putting his phone in his pocket, trying to calm himself down with little success as he made his way to Jack’s office. “Jack” he said, from the doorway.

“Ianto! I was just about to come find you. What d’you say to tonight, at that restaurant near the–” he broke off as he saw Ianto’s face, standing up and coming over to him. “Oh. What’s happened?”

“My mum” he said, voice coming out hollow. “She’s got an infection, side effect of the treatment apparently. They’ve transferred her to intensive care. I need to–”

“To go, yes” said Jack, nodding. He squeezed Ianto’s hands between them; it made Ianto realise that he’d been trembling. “Hey” Jack said. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Ianto nodded. “Thanks” he said.

Jack pulled him forward, pressed a firm and grounding kiss to his forehead. “Call me if you need anything, yeah? Anything at all.”

Ianto nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

The lift was faster than the stairs, but still it felt like hours as it carried him upwards, towards the outside. He resisted the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. When he got to the surface, he practically jumped off the paving slab, going into a run.

And immediately collided with someone else, sending him sprawling backwards on the stones.

“Hey, mate, watch where you’re–” a pause. “ _Ianto?_ ”

He blinked, peering upwards. “Rhiannon?”

“You... you just...” she blinked, looking away from him and then at the paving slab he’d stepped off, and then back at him. She drew in a deep breath, hands on her hips. “Right. Here’s what’s going to happen. God knows there’s been some weird stuff happening these last few days, and I can’t shake the feeling that you know more than you’re telling me.” Her eyes flickered to his earpiece, that he’d forgotten he was still wearing; belatedly, he pulled it off and jammed it in his pocket. “You and your _Torchwood_. You owe me an explanation, Ianto Jones, and it better be a bloody good one. But before any of that, we’re going to see mum.” She offered him a hand to pull him back to his feet. “Deal?”

He took her hand. “Deal” he said.

* * *

At the hospital, a nurse led them along a white hospital corridor, their shoes squeaking on the lineoleum. “Glad you two could make it so soon. She’s been asking for you.”

“Well, we both happened to be close by” said Rhiannon, darting Ianto a glance.

The nurse nodded, opening a door and pulling back a curtain. “Here we are.”

Ianto almost hesitated about going inside. The smell in the hospital was making him nervous. It made him think of what it had been like when their dad had died, a sudden flood of unwanted sense memory coming back to him. But he shook it off as Rhiannon tugged him gently by his jacket sleeve.

There, in a bed with an IV drip at one side, was his mother. She seemed small, in amongst the hospital bedding, with a floral scarf tied around her head. Her eyes were half closed but a heart monitor beeped in the corner, soft and reassuring.

Rhiannon pulled up one of the plastic chairs on one side of the bed, and Ianto did the same on the other. “Mum?” he said, gently taking her hand in his.

Her eyes flickered open. “You came.”

“We’re both here, yeah.”

Rhiannon nodded. “How’re you feeling, mum?”

She grimaced slightly, plucking at the bed sheets. “The doctors said, the antibiotics should clear this up. But then it’s back to chemo and – well.” She shrugged, as best she could. “Not my best, if I’m honest.”

“Can we bring you anything?” he ventured.

“Just you two...that’s enough to be going on with.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe some of that good strong tea, if you can sneak some past reception. I don’t think I’m supposed to have much caffeine, but I’m sure you have your ways.”

Ianto smiled. “Milk two sugars?”

“Milk two sugars. Bring a thermos?”

“I’ll do my best, mum.”

“That’s my boy.”

“Mum” said Rhiannon, taking her other hand on the sheets. “It’s going to be okay. You know that, don’t you? This is just an infection, and as for the cancer, people get better all the time–”

“Oh, love, I know” she said. “I’ve had that talk from everyone and their mother in this place. But... you two. I just wanted to see you.” She squeezed Rhiannon’s hand, the other still holding Ianto’s. “I missed you. And I know, I know there’s hope, but... I just wanted to say.” She paused for breath. “Rhiannon... Ianto...” he felt her hand squeeze his too. “Just... when I’m gone. You two need to look after each other. Promise me.”

“Mum–”

“Promise me. Rhi, I know you’ve got Johnny and the kids, but...” she shook her head. “Our family was never the best at it, were we? I’m afraid I didn’t set a good example. What with your dad…” she sighed and broke off, almost apologetic. Ianto suppressed a wince. But she spoke before he could. “And Ianto, ever since Lisa died, you’ve barely told me anything, and I’ve been so worried about you. But you deserve someone who’ll look out for you, love.”

“Mum, I’m fine” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “I’m… I mean, I _have_ people again, mum. Good people, who care about me. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

She nodded. “Just, promise me anyway. Promise me you’ll look out for each other.”

Rhiannon made a soft sound in her throat. “We will” she said firmly. She picked up Ianto’s other hand across the bed so they were all holding hands in a loose triangle, squeezing it and giving him a meaningful look.

“Good. I love you two, so much... you know that, don’t you?”

“Mum–” said Ianto. He met Rhiannon’s eyes; there were tears there, and could feel his own eyes starting to well up. “Love you too.”

“And I do, too” said Rhiannon firmly. “We’re here” she said. “We’ll wait as long as it takes.”

* * *

After their mother was asleep once more and the nurse had shuffled them out into the waiting room, they sat side by side on plastic chairs. Ianto glanced down at his watch. 00:17. Later than he’d thought. “If you want to go home, I can stay through the night” he said. It wasn’t like he had much of a regular sleep pattern to maintain anyway.

“No, it’s okay” said Rhiannon. “I texted Johnny already, told him I’d be either late or tomorrow. He’ll take the kids to school in the morning.”

Ianto nodded, leaning back against the wall. There was a short silence as they each thought their own thoughts.

“Hey, Ianto?”

“Yeah?”

“You said to mum, that you had people. People who cared about you.”

He smiled, despite everything. “Yeah.”

“People from work?”

“Yeah.”

She poked his arm. “All right then, be mysterious. You know I just want you to be happy, you big idiot.”

He relaxed a little, some of the tension going out of him. “Thanks.”

They were silent for a little more, the nervous tension creeping back as they watched the minute hand of the clock on the wall crawl around and around, to quarter to two. They were the only people in the waiting room now, and it was too silent; Ianto couldn’t stand it any longer. “You know, I’m... sorry for the way I’ve been. Through all this. No, really, I am.” He hesitated. “It’s just... my job. It makes you lose perspective sometimes. It feels like another world.”

She gave an exasperated sigh, pulling up the other chair beside him. “You still owe me one hell of an explanation. Mostly for the part where you _appeared out of nowhere_ by the waterfront today. Also, everything else that’s been going on, because I know there’s _something_. I’m not stupid” she said. “...But it doesn’t have to be now.”

“Thanks” he said, meaning it. He didn’t think he was up to explaining Torchwood right now, any more than he was up to explaining anything to do with Jack.

“Just tell me” she said, frowning. “Are you safe?”

That question caught him off guard, his mind going back to all the times he and the others had been injured, nearly died. “Uh...”

“Because the thing is, I don’t want to lose you” she said, her voice cracking. “I _can’t_ lose you, Ianto. I couldn’t bear it, you know. Not if mum... I mean. Just... stay, will you?”

Ianto had no idea how to respond to this; he could feel tears starting in his own eyes. He cleared his throat. “Let me get us some coffee” he said.

She looked around incredulously, the abrupt change of subject breaking her reverie. “From where?”

“Vending machine down the corridor” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Out on his own in the corridor the air was slightly cooler, though the smell of disinfectant was just as strong. He tried to still the trembling in his fingers as he watched the brown, sludgy instant coffee trickle into the plastic cup. He loosened his tie, ran his hand through his hair and walked in a circle until the first coffee was done. Fed in the right coins and started a second going.

As the machine ran, he pulled out his phone to find two texts from Jack.

_How’s it going? Still awake, if you want a lift home._

_Or just to talk._

Ianto smiled slightly.

 _Nothing’s changed but I’m fine. Think I’m going to stay until morning,_ he texted back. And then,

 _Thanks though_.

The coffee was done. He put his phone away; as much as even seeing Jack’s words on the small screen had lifted his spirits, it wasn’t going to solve the problem he was facing now.

Rhiannon knew about Torchwood, was the thing. He didn’t know exactly how or why, but somehow she must know much more than he'd thought.

At least it was a more immediately fixable problem than his mother’s illness, he thought ruefully, rummaging in his jacket pocket. This, at least, he knew. He pulled out a ziploc bag the size of a postage stamp, in which were a few small, white pills. About six hours, he decided. That should be plenty to cover his appearance on the invisible lift, at least. He could deal with the rest later.

But then, a couple of hours ago... _oh_. He thought back over the way they’d sat together on the chairs in the waiting room. Their mother’s words to them both, and the way she’d held on to their hands.

Could he really take that away from Rhiannon?

Yes. He had to, he knew. He took out a pill, dropping it determinedly into the cup with coffee with milk. He’d drink his black. Then he turned, making his way back down the corridor to the waiting room.

When he got back, Rhiannon was on the phone. “Yeah. Yeah, tell the kids I love them. Yes, I’ll tell him. Bye.”

She put down the phone and turned to him as he came in. “Johnny sends his love” she said.

“Did he really send his love, or did he ask you to transfer the phone equivalent of a brotherly punch in the arm that’s just a _little_ bit too hard to be completely affectionate?”

“Hey. Don’t be cheeky, or I really will punch you in the arm” she said.

“Then whose fault will it be if I spill your coffee?”

“Well, bring it over here then” she said, patting the low plastic table. She was smiling wearily, and for a moment he got stuck there, just watching. A moment later, she noticed. “...Ianto? You okay?”

“I...” he opened his mouth, closed it again, looking down at the coffees in his hands. Slowly, he began to walk forward; time went into slow motion as his mind raced, weighing up possibilities. Whatever he did now, he knew, he’d have to live with it for the rest of his life.

And with that, the choice felt easier.

His foot squeaked as he caught it deliberately on the linoleum; the coffee in his right hand went flying everywhere, the left slopping painfully over his hand.

“Oh my god, Ianto, here, let me–” Rhiannon went to the paper towel dispenser on the wall, pulled out a huge wad of them and busied herself with cleaning up the slowly spreading coffee stain. He set down the cups on the table, suddenly too weary to care about leaving brown rings. He felt as though all the strength had gone out of him, and he sat heavily down in a chair.

Rhiannon was tutting. “You really must be tired” she said. “Because god forbid anyone spill a drop of anything in the house, and… oh, no” she said, turning to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” said Ianto hastily, trying to bring his face back to some semblance of composure. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine.”

She finished wiping coffee stains and sat down beside him. “You need sleep” she said.

“It’s okay. I can stay awake” he said. “Do it all the time.”

She rolled your eyes. “You’re worse than Mica. Except you’re not six, you’re nearly _twenty_ -six.” She punched his arm lightly. “Don’t you want to get that man in the fancy car to come pick you up? I bet he would.”

Ianto wondered if he’d come regret the choice he had made a minute ago. Perhaps in the very immediate future. “It’s fine” he said. “I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay. Then go to sleep here” she said. “Go on. It’s nearly two in the morning. I can wake you if anything changes.”

He looked at her. She looked about as tired as he felt, but she had that determined look on, that said she wouldn’t be argued with. “All right” he said. “There’s still half a cup of that coffee, if you want it. It’s black and I know you take milk, and it’s _from a vending machine..._ but it’ll help you stay awake.”

She smiled, putting her arm around him and giving him half a hug. “Thanks, Ianto.”

He laid his head on her shoulder, letting himself relax slightly. “Any time.”

And within a surprisingly short time, he was asleep.

* * *

Someone was saying Ianto’s name in the distance. Or perhaps, he thought, calling out to him. _What did they need?_ he wondered. Something out of the archives, pizza or the morning’s round of coffee. A dose of retcon, or–

“Ianto. _Ianto!_ Wake up!”

He woke with a start, to someone patting his shoulder. For a moment he was disorientated, his neck stiff from having slept in a chair. Why was he in a chair? He glanced up, seeing Rhiannon leaning over him and shaking her head.

“Not going to fall asleep, you said. Stay awake all night. Do they really work you so hard at that job of yours? You should unionise.”

He rubbed his face blearily. Hopefully it was still early. “What time is it?”

She checked her watch. “Half eleven” she said. “The nurses didn’t want to wake you. Sleeping like a baby, you were.”

He blinked, a little alarmed. “Uh... I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” He looked around, feeling the crick in his neck as he swiveled to look at the door to the room where their mother had been. His eyes widened as he saw the room was empty, the door standing open and the bed wheeled away. “Mum–” he rasped.

“Ianto, it’s okay. They think she’s doing better” said Rhiannon, handing him a half-full bottle of water from her bag. “She’s in the other ward now, for some tests.” She was unable to keep the hopeful smile off her face. “Ianto, it’s too early to tell yet, but they’re saying she’ll get through this, at least. She seems to be responding well to the antibiotics. Like I said, too early to tell, but last I heard it’s looking... hopeful.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes. “Wait... really? What–” he broke off, mind going back to the night before. “Rhi...”

She came to stand beside him, ruffling up his hair like she hadn’t since he was very young indeed. “Yeah?”

“...Nothing” he said. He smiled. “Except… thanks.”

* * *

It was afternoon on Monday by the time Ianto got back to the Hub. Gwen saw him coming on the CCTV, so she was ready and waiting to corner him before he’d even put his things down.

“Gwen...” he looked tired, his eyes a little red, but otherwise surprisingly okay, she thought. He’d even managed to find a clean suit somewhere.

“Hi, Ianto. ...Everything okay?”

“I... yes. Yeah, I think so. Or… as okay as it can be at this point. But Gwen, I did... something. I’m worried I made a huge mistake.”

“Oh, Christ” she said, mind immediately bringing up images of another significant mistake Ianto had made, all blood and metal and darkness.

“No, it’s nothing... dangerous” he said, flushing. “Or at least, I don’t think so.”

She frowned. “Tell me what happened?”

And so he did.

After he was finished, there was silence for a moment.

“So... first of all, Ianto, I’m glad your mum’s getting better. I really, really am” said Gwen. Then she rounded on him. “But let me make sure I understand this... your _sister knows about Torchwood_?”

“Not so loud!” hissed Ianto, pulling her around the corner and onto the sofa. Once there, he dropped his face into his hands. “I told you why I did it: I didn’t want her to lose the memory of... all that. And it seemed like a good idea at two in the morning, but...” he shook his head, looking up to meet her eye. “Gwen, what if it’s _not_.”

“Well, I can hardly talk, but... Jack let me let Rhys keep his memory. If he treats you any different I’ll march up to his office and shout at him myself.”

“It’s not really Jack I’m worried about.”

She paused, scrutinising him. “Ianto... you have… _told_ Jack, haven’t you?” His silence was answer enough; she glared at him. “Well, when were you planning to tell him?”

He muttered something unintelligible.

“Ianto!” said Gwen. “You have to tell him _now_. You do understand that, don’t you?” She sat down beside him, put an arm around him and started rubbing his back between the shoulder blades. He hunched forward a little, sitting on his hands and staring at the floor, but didn’t pull away. “I don’t blame you for what you did” she said, “it sounds like there’s nothing else you could’ve done. But if we’ve got another person who knows about Torchwood, who knows what we do, you’re going to have to tell Jack about it. As your boss, and the head of Torchwood. You’ve got to leave the personal stuff out of it.”

Ianto nodded slowly. “I just wish...” he frowned. “The thing is... I fucked up, Gwen” he said, voice cracking. “Multiple times throughout all this. I tried so hard to keep it all separate, but I fucked up at every turn. So, I wish I didn’t have to come to Jack and explain it all now.”

“I know. But I don’t think you fucked up” said Gwen, gently. “You made a choice between two shitty options, and you made that choice with compassion, and love. But even if you _did_ fuck up...” she turned to face him. Seeing him like that, with tears starting in his eyes, she was reminded that Ianto was the youngest of them; she forgot sometimes. “Look, Torchwood stuff aside... Jack loves you. You know that, don’t you? No, don’t make that face you big idiot, it’s bloody obvious how much he loves you. It’s in everything he does! And the people who love you… you’ve got to rely on them, let them help you when you make mistakes.” She gave him a sad smile. “I know that now. You’ve got to let them in, because at the end of the day, what else have we got?”

He stared at her. She thought for a moment he would argue, but instead he sighed, shoulders drooping. “...I hate how your advice is so sensible sometimes. You’re right, though. I should tell Jack about it.” He laughed a little, wiping away a stray tear and nodding his thanks as she passed him a rather squashed pack of kleenex from her bag. “Sorry about this. Tough day. Week. But I will tell him. I promise.”

“...Tell me what?”

They both started at the words, turning together to see Jack on the stairs, looking up at them.

Gwen gave Ianto’s arm a squeeze. “Go on” she said gently, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Ianto took a breath, turning back to Jack as Gwen left. “So” he said, facing Jack across the desk. “You remember I told you about my sister...”


	11. Chapter 11

Jack listened, as Ianto told him everything. Not interrupting – except to ask a quiet question here or there – but just letting Ianto talk. Ianto didn’t normally talk nearly this much, and Jack could practically feel the relief it was bringing him coming off him in waves as they sat side by side on the dilapidated sofa. As Ianto spoke, Jack let their fingers just make contact on the seat between them. Not pushing him, but staying close.

“And then… after that, I came here” finished Ianto at last. Finally he turned to look at Jack, and the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, the vulnerability in his expression all but broke Jack’s heart. “I’m sorry” Ianto said. “The stuff with mum... it threw me off. I know I should've told you about Rhiannon, but I thought, it’s a family matter, I’ll handle it on my own. No need to–” he broke off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jack didn’t answer; instead, he opened his arms wide. Ianto’s mouth opened as though in surprise, but a mere moment later he was leaning into Jack’s arms, as Jack pulled him close against his chest in a hug. He felt Ianto tuck his face into his shoulder and brought his hand up to push his fingers through the short hair at the back of Ianto’s neck, holding him close.

At last they broke apart. Ianto turned away, wiping his eyes with his shirt cuff before looking up to meet Jack’s eye again. “Thanks” he said, voice a little rough.

“You looked like you needed it” said Jack with a shrug.

Ianto nodded distractedly, darting a look at Jack and then away again. “Say something?”

“...Well, for a start your sister sounds just as persistent in trying to get into this place as you were, back then.”

“Runs in the family, I guess.”

Jack grinned. “Admittedly, I’ve never met her, so I can’t say how she measures up to you in terms of–”

“ _Jack_.” Ianto was giving him a deeply unamused glare.

He sighed, laying his hand on Ianto’s arm. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

“...I know.”

“But you should have told me.”

“I _know_. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “Right. Now we fix this, then. Is there anyone else who knows?”

“Maybe the children. And Johnny... Rhiannon’s husband. Maybe. Probably not.”

“ _Probably_ not?”

“I’ll check.”

“And your mother?”

“She doesn’t know, thank god.”

Jack nodded. “So, I guess it doesn’t need saying... and even then, Gwen probably told you already. But you obviously need to talk to your sister now, as soon as you can. Explain everything. If she tells everyone she knows, the mess it’ll cause will be on you.”

Ianto nodded. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything.”

“Having said that though...” Jack quirked a smile. “You know I’ve got your back, don’t you? We all do.”

Ianto looked up and met his eye, smiling very slightly too. “I know. Thanks.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Of course.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, sceptical.

Ianto sighed. “...Mum’s still sick, so really, not much has changed. But... I’ll be as okay as I ever was.”

Jack felt a pang in his chest. In his own time, this would have been an easy problem to solve. But here in the twenty-first century–

He paused. And smacked his forehead. “ _Oh!_ ”

Ianto blinked at him. “Oh?”

“Ianto, I’ve been an idiot. No, don’t respond to that.” He grinned, grasping Ianto by the shoulders and stilling his protests with a look, before letting him go. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

* * *

Ianto was just wondering if he should go and find Jack when he came bounding back into the room, holding a metal box in his hands. He set it on the table and opened it, and when he turned back to present the contents to Ianto, his whole face was alight with a triumphant smile. "Ta-dah!"

In his hands was a jam jar, filled with glowing gold. “Nanogenes...” Ianto took it from Jack’s hands carefully.

“As of three days ago, Owen doesn’t need them anymore” said Jack. “That should be easily enough to cure your mother. Shouldn’t take too long, either; definitely not as long as fixing every cell in Owen’s body. Maybe... a few hours? Collect them back up afterwards to go back in the archives. Don’t want them escaping in the hospital.”

“...Jack...” Ianto felt a little light-headed as he held the jar between his hands. Then his face fell. There was always a catch. “But what about the others in the hospital? There are so many more who could benefit from this. What right do I have, to–”

“You sound like Gwen.”

“Well, maybe she’s been rubbing off on me.”

But Jack was shaking his head. “Sorry, but there aren’t enough, Ianto. Even nanogenes have their limits, and one of those is being spread too thinly. But the good thing I’ve found about Torchwood, working here all these years, is that sometimes, just sometimes, we can help one person. And I’ve never met your mother, but you love her, and it sounds like she loves you.” He laid a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “Go save her, and don’t feel guilty about it. Then bring the nanogenes back here. Oh, and then you should probably talk to your sister at some point too. Maybe when you’ve slept a bit first, though. No offense.”

“None taken” said Ianto. He drew himself up straighter, taking a deep breath. He felt less weary already, cradling the glass jar, some of the stress of the last few days lifting. With its departure came a wave of affection so strong it threatened to overcome him; on impulse, he leaned forward and kissed Jack, looping his free arm around his neck and drawing him close, trying to channel all the strength of his relief into it.

When he pulled back, Jack was smiling. “Go on” he said. “Go. Do what you gotta do.”

* * *

Ianto sat in the plastic chair beside his mother’s bed, leaning down to the rucksack he’d brought with him and pulling out a thermos flask and two ceramic mugs. “Got you that tea you wanted” he said. He took a ziploc bag of sugar cubes, putting two into her cup and stirring it with a teaspoon. “Brewed strong, milk, two sugars.”

She smiled, watching him pour the tea. “I’m lucky to have you” she said, taking the cup he handed her and sipping. “You always get it just right.”

“I hope so” said Ianto. “How are you feeling?”

She paused. “The doctor says the infection should be cleared in a couple of days. But then they’ll transfer me back upstairs, and it’s back to the usual… or whatever passes for it around here.” A frown line appeared on her forehead. After a few seconds she focused again, looking back up at him. “But anyway. How’s Rhiannon?”

“At home with Johnny and the kids. I convinced her she needed some proper sleep, so it’s just me tonight.”

“Oh, love, you don’t have to stay–”

“Mum. I want to.”

She nodded, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I miss you when I don’t see you, you know. That job of yours. You’re there all hours.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Ianto smiled. “I’m here.”

They talked for a while, drinking their tea together. When his mother had fallen asleep several hours later, Ianto set aside the thermos and leaned down to the bag again, taking out the jar, unwrapping it carefully from the tea towel he’d been using to protect it. He paused for a moment, looking at the golden specks drifting and swirling about inside.

When he opened the jar, the nanogenes swarmed out and drifted around the room for a moment in a searching sort of way. Ianto watched with his heart in his throat as they began to swirl around his mother’s sleeping form on the bed.

For a long time he waited, barely letting himself hope but bracing for something bad to happen, any sign that something was wrong. But it never came; she just slept on, as the soft honey-golden light filled the space.

 _Maybe_ , Ianto finally allowed himself to think, _maybe Jack was right_.

Maybe it really was just as simple as this.

* * *

Ianto’s phone rang in the middle of the afternoon the next day.

“Hello?”

“Ianto! I just got off the phone with your sister. You’ll never believe it!”

“Oh?”

“...I mean. Don’t get too excited, love. But it was the strangest thing, the infection was just _gone_ , overnight. They thought the readings were off, see, so they did some tests and apparently… the cancer’s gone into remission? Completely, though; it’s like it just disappeared! To hear the doctors talk, they’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Wait, really?” said Ianto, smiling to himself. His heart felt light in his chest. Maybe now was the time to let himself hope. “That’s…. but mum, are they sure? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Well, I certainly feel better than I have in... oh, love, I don’t even know how long.”

“Oh, mum, that’s wonderful.” He nearly let out a sob of joy. But he bit his lip; first he had to make sure she didn’t know anything. “But wait, how is that possible?”

“Well, isn’t that just it?” she said. “I didn’t know either, and neither did the doctors. Nobody knew _what_ to think. I’m getting another round of tests tomorrow to make sure, and if it’s really clear, they want me to come in to be a case study in some medical journal... and there’s always the chance that the cancer might come back like before of course, but...”

“But it might not” he said. He couldn’t help the smile that was spreading across his face, until his cheeks hurt from it. “That’s great, mum” he said. “That’s really great to hear.”

From across the other side of the hub, he saw Jack peer out at him from the window of his office, with a questioning look.

Ianto gave him a smile and a thumbs up sign, and Jack grinned, ducking back out of sight.

* * *

After his mother had said goodbye Ianto just held his phone in his hand for a moment, still hardly able to believe it. But after only a moment it rang again, making him jump and almost drop it on the table.  
  
He answered it. "Rhiannon–"  
  
"Ianto! Your phone was busy, I don't know if it was mum, but, did you hear–"  
  
"Yeah" he laughed to keep from crying. "Yeah she told me!"  
  
"Ianto, I can barely believe it!"  
  
"I know, it's–"  
  
"...No, I mean, I _really_ can't believe it. So... I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with this? Mum told me you visited last night. Was it you, and your..." he heard her cast around for words, "...your weird... stuff? From work?"  
  
"My _weird stuff_?" he asked. He felt a slightly hysterical giggle rising in his throat. "That's a good description."  
  
"Well I don't know what you want when you still haven't properly explained to me! I'm asking a serious question, Ianto!" Her voice had changed, and immediately he quashed down his laughter; she really did sound desperate. "Because if... if you did something, and mum is getting better, then that's wonderful. But I need to _know_ , Ianto. I can’t take being kept in the dark anymore, not over this. I need to know if it's going to be permanent, if there are... any risks."  
  
"There won't be. And it should be a permanent cure. Unless something else happens later... but her cancer should be gone."  
  
"How is that possible, though?" said Rhiannon. "See, that's the thing, Ianto. Don't you think I deserve a proper explanation?"  
  
He sighed. "You're right" he said. "You do."  
  
"Thank you."

"Can I come over tomorrow afternoon?"  
  
"If you want. Johnny'll be out and I need to pick up the kids, but you're welcome to."  
  
"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Because you're right, Rhiannon. I do owe you an explanation."  
  
"Not only that, you also promised me one."  
  
"And that. Tomorrow afternoon, okay?"  
  
"Tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

  
"So... that's it" said Ianto, folding his hands on the table. "That's Torchwood."  
  
Rhiannon stared at him. "Aliens" she said faintly. "But really though... you hunt _aliens_?"  
  
"Amongst other things" he said, fidgeting with his cuff button. "Sometimes humans are much more of a problem."

“Oh, really” she snapped. “That why you _erased my memory_ , not once but _twice_?”

He winced, regretting his commitment to complete honesty more and more by the minute. “Organisational protocol...”

“Oh, I bet.” She scoffed. “But never mind me... I bet you did the same to Mica and David too, you... _ugh_ , I could kill you.”

“I had to, I’m sorry.”

"Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you? Mind you, I guess it explains why Mica's been talking about aliens and dinosaurs and all sorts since you took her and David to work with you."  
  
"...Wait, what?"  
  
"Like I said. Look, there's one of her drawings pinned to the fridge behind you. She's started doing more at home since she got in trouble at school, poor thing" she said. "Oh, and I bet you had something to do with David getting sick too. Don't try and deny it" she said.

He stared. “Look, Rhiannon... there’ll be no lasting damage.”

She tutted. “It’s not me you have to apologise to, it’s the children. For that matter, you can pick them up from school later, for a start. Make it up to them then.”

He nodded hastily. “I’ll take them out for ice cream. Properly, this time. I’ll talk to them.”

“You bloody well better.” She glared. "And another thing. You used some weird alien technology on mum?"  
  
"They're called nanogenes. Future medical tech, used by a wide range of cultures, but especially well-suited to humans. Don't worry, they're very safe."  
  
"Oh, _what_ a relief" she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"...Really, though” he said. “My... boss knows them well. It was him that suggested it actually. And I trust his judgement.”

She raised her eyebrows for a moment.

“What’s that look for?”

Rhiannon sighed, coming around the kitchen table to pull him into a hug. “Oh, come here” she said. “I’m still angry at you” she muttered, holding him very tight. “Don’t think I’m not.”

Ianto patted her hair gingerly. “I know.”  
  
After a while she pulled back, giving him a searching look. "Look, I’m... well, not _fine_ with all this alien stuff. But I’ll get used to it, I suppose. I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

“The same one as before. Are you safe?”  
  
Ianto sighed. "I want to tell you I am. But... we protect humanity, Rhiannon. It's dangerous, and you never know what might happen."  
  
"Ianto..." she said quietly. "I know the way you were after you came back from London... after Lisa died.” She seemed to realise something. “... _Oh_. Lisa... was she involved in this too? Torchwood?”

Ianto’s heart plummeted in his chest. “Yeah” he said shortly. “She was.”

To her credit, she didn’t force him to elaborate but merely squeezed his arm, softening slightly. “Oh, Ianto, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. But look, my point is... if you're putting yourself in danger I want to be sure you're doing it for the right reasons, you know? Not that there _are_ right reasons for that, but..." she shrugged. "I need to know you're not going to throw your life away for nothing. Or, you know, at all."  
  
He sighed, thinking back about a year and a half; if she had said something like that after Lisa had died, she might have been right. "Rhiannon, I'm _fine_ " he said. "Like I said to mum. I'm not doing this alone. There are a few of us; we protect each other."

She gave him a long, scrutinising look. Then she nodded. “Well, I guess that’s about the best I can hope for.”

“Really. You don’t have to worry. My life... is better now than it’s been in a long time. Since London.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad. Really, I am. I was worried about you, then. But with mum...”

“It’s okay.”

She nodded, going to sit down at the other side of the table again and staring him down. The tension between them seemed to have ebbed a little, but he got the feeling this conversation wasn't over. “So? That it? Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Ianto stared at her. “Uhhh...” He forced himself to say the words before he lost his nerve. “There is... one thing you should know. Maybe.”

“Oh?”

He took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as he gathered his courage. _This shouldn’t be so hard_ _after all that_ _, and yet_ … he gritted his teeth. If he’d learned anything from the last few days, it was that if he was going to tell her this, he’d much, much rather it be on his own terms.

He carried on looking just above Rhiannon’s head, keeping his tone level. “I’m... sort of dating my boss” he said. _Dating_ didn’t feel like a word that covered even half of what Jack and he had been doing this last year, but since they _did_ go on dates when Torchwood and the Rift permitted it, it was at least accurate in the technical sense he supposed.

Rhiannon gasped. “ _No_. ...Really?!?”

“Hmm.” Ianto felt himself starting to flush. “And no, before you say anything it’s not... there’s no... it’s not like it sounds. I’m not trying to... get anything from him” he felt a swoop of nervousness as he carefully emphasised the pronoun, wanting to be absolutely clear, “and he doesn’t want anything else from me. Well, except for, you know, the usual...” he tailed off, realising he was blushing furiously. “I’m rambling. But the point _is_ , I’m dating my boss and I have been for a while now, and I realise I never actually did tell you I liked men as well as women, and I know a lot has happened today and maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up but I’m just _tired_ , Rhiannon. I’ve been keeping so many secrets for so long, and I got used to it. And I don’t like keeping secrets, but you get to a point when it’s out of habit, and telling the truth is _hard._ But _..._ ” he shrugged, raising his open hands, “...there it is.”

Instead of saying anything, Rhiannon came around the table and enfolded him in a firm hug, for the second time today. “Oh, Ianto” she said, into his shoulder. “I love you. You’re an idiot, but I love you.”

He breathed out, his chest feeling a little less tight. “...Thanks.” When they finally broke apart he met her eye nervously. “His name’s Jack, since you didn’t ask.”

She nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

“So…?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she huffed out a laugh. “Bloody hell. The internet conspiracy theorists were _right_.”

“ _What?_ ”

Rhiannon winced. “Actually, you know what? You don’t want to know.”

“Probably best” agreed Ianto, who was in fact very much aware of the urban legends that swirled around Torchwood on the internet; it was part of his job to monitor them in fact. He’d _almost_ been able to write it off as actual work when he’d spent an afternoon delving into the corner of it all that seemed to concern him and Jack, including the people who seemed insistent on making up stories about their private life. Whether or not those stories were accurate in places – and regardless of the fact that reading them may have given him an idea or two that he had run past Jack that same night, to the satisfaction of all concerned – was irrelevant. And it was definitely not something to be brought up in his sister’s kitchen. There was, after all, such a thing as too much honesty. He forced his features back into the closest to a neutral expression he could manage, scrutinising Rhiannon’s face. “Say something.”

She grinned. “Is he really as hot as he looks in those blurry pictures?”

“You’ve seen him, Rhi. In the car that time; he gave me a lift home.”

“I was a bit distracted at the time.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well?”

Ianto felt himself blush further. “...He _is_ very handsome.”

“Oh, obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “Is he _hot_ , though?”

He sighed. _In for a penny, in for a pound, then_. It had been a long day. “...You don’t know the _half_ of it.” He bit his lip. “It’s the jawline. Also, arms. Also, there’s this thing he does, when he turns around to–”

She laughed, hitting him gently on the arm. “Okay, that’s getting towards more information than I need about my baby brother’s taste in men.”

“I’m _not–_ ”

“–A baby anymore, yeah I know.” She sighed, suddenly serious. “He _is_ good to you, though… isn’t he?”

Ianto thought back to Monday, the look on Jack’s face when he'd given Ianto the jar of nanogenes. The way Jack cared for him, even if he never said it much with words. It made Ianto more hopeful than he was comfortable with. It made him dare to want things, that part of him knew he probably shouldn’t. “ _Yeah_ ” he said. “Yeah, he is.”

“Good. Because if he wasn’t...”

“You’d kill him, yes, I know.”

“Bloody right I would.” Rhiannon gave him a rather piercing look. “Do you love him?”

Ianto blinked at the sudden question. “Well, yes” he said, caught off guard. “Obviously I love–” he stopped, surprised at himself and unable to form words for a few moments. “Um. Sorry” he said. “Don’t know if I’ve admitted that out loud before.”

“... _Oh_. Shit, Ianto."

"...Hmmm."

"You should tell him.”

“I... don’t know if that’s a good idea...” it was more complicated than that, he wanted to say. Maybe if they were some other couple – and _oh_ , he realised there and then that he quite liked the sound of that word, _couple_ – and their situation was anything other than it was. But he didn’t really want to argue the point now. “I’ll... I’ll tell him, someday.”

For a moment she seemed like she was going to argue. But then she nodded, sitting back down at the table and leaning forward on her hand, conspiratorially. “So. When do I get to meet him?”

“... _Um_.”

“Awww, c’mon Ianto! You should invite him to tea, with me and Johnny and the kids. Johnny said he thought you were definitely – but he didn’t _mean_ anything by it, you understand, and really we all just want you to be happy. Oh! And mum could come too, once she’s out of hospital... she’d love to meet this _Jack_ of yours...”

“Rhiannon. Stop... stop.”

“Oh. Too much?”

“Bit too much, yeah.”

She touched his arm again. “Okay. But sometime, yeah? I don’t want you disappearing from my life again. ...Think about it.”

“Sometime, then.” Ianto nodded. “I promise.”

* * *

When Gwen got back from weevil hunting with Tosh and Owen, she found her afternoon cup of coffee waiting on her desk, still hot. Stuck to the side of the mug was a Post-it note. She picked it up and smiled as she read.

_You were right._

_Thanks,_

_I._

She folded it into her pocket and took a sip of coffee.

When she got home that night Rhys was watching TV; a scientist in a lab coat was being interviewed on the screen. She came to sit beside him on the sofa, throwing her arms around him in a side hug and letting herself relax against his shoulder. “What’re you watching?”

“News” he said, gesturing with the remote control. “The bees are disappearing, apparently. None of them smart insect experts can fully explain it. Not one of your weird Torchwood jobs, is it?”

Gwen frowned. “Nope, why would... I mean, I don’t _think_ so” she said, frowning. She took the remote control and turned off the TV, leaning in close to him. “Hey.”

“...Hello. You okay?”

Gwen tucked her face into his arm. “Yeah” she said. “Rhys?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I don’t have to keep hiding this stuff I do from you. You have no idea how hard it was, before.”

He turned in her arms, returning her hug. “Yeah. I’m glad too” he said. He looked at her with a frown. “What’s brought this on? Something happen?”

“Just... helping Ianto through some difficult stuff with his family. He’ll be okay though. I think everything’s going to be okay, actually.”

Rhys nodded. “Good” he said, pulling her in close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus I wrap up this "Ianto is forced kicking and screaming into actual better communication with the people in his life" arc....I hope you enjoyed it! I definitely did! Next chapter there will be a time skip before I move on to more plotty Plot (as well as coming back on what Tosh, Owen, and Gray have been up to during all this....) Anyway yes there are Big Things coming up soon but this felt like a good break point for now! Let me know what you think, and I hope you're enjoying this fic!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....god I hope you guys have watched Doctor Who: The Stolen Earth/Journey's End  
> (If not then uhhhhh there are [episode](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/The_Stolen_Earth_\(TV_story\)) [summaries](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Journey%27s_End_\(TV_story\)) on the wiki. I think having a sense of the plot will definitely make this chapter easier to follow, though.)

It was an ordinary day, at least as far as such things went at Torchwood, when the earth was stolen from the sky.

They’d been having a mostly quiet week. Not much Rift activity, nothing big coming through. But, Jack thought, that only meant they had time to handle all the little problems that often got pushed aside by the prospect of the imminent alien invasion of the hour.

He walked into the main space from his office, still a little annoyed after his phonecall with some uncooperative council employee, already calling out to his team.

“...Alright kids, I’m back. Tosh, see if you can trace those hacking attempts into our systems from the past few months. Might be related, might not be, and I know your security protocols got us covered, but I wanna know who keeps trying to hack us. Maybe I’ll pay ‘em a visit sometime. Gwen, check the CCTV from outside the council building, see if you can get a timestamp on when the suspects went in and out. Owen, run a DNA test on the alien blood sample from the cold case from ninety-three, cross-reference it with recent stuff and anything you can find in the archives, and see if it shows up as anything we’ve seen before. Ianto, I’m gonna need–” Jack broke off and frowned. “Where _is_ Ianto?”

“Up here, sir” called down Ianto from the platform below Myfanwy’s roost. As Jack looked up, Gray also leaned over the railing. “We’re teaching Myfanwy not to bite Gray’s hand off when he feeds her.”

“Well, you can get back to that later” said Jack, as the two of them started down the stairs. “Ianto, I’m gonna need you to trawl ebay, go to every seller of alien artifacts you know. See if any of that shipment ended up for sale.”

Ianto nodded, at the bottom of the stairs now. “I’ve got quite the list of very convincing fake accounts now. Not to mention trusted contacts.”

“Never doubted it for a second” said Jack proudly, as Ianto headed towards the stairs. Behind him, Gray stepped down off the staircase. “Hey, Gray” said Jack, pulling up short in front of his brother. “What’ve you been up to recently? Apart from pteranodon babysitting, that is? I haven’t checked in much since we picked a birthday for your ID documents last week.”

“Yeah, I’ve been learning how the calendar here actually works since then” said Gray. “Also, Owen’s been giving me the all vaccines I’ll need here... he said he was surprised I hadn’t got sick already, all the diseases they still have that were eradicated centuries before we were born. Oh! And Toshiko's been teaching me how Youtube works. The twenty-first century is... fascinating.”

Jack grimaced. “Guess that’s one way to put it, yeah.” He raised his eyebrows. “What about outside? Are you getting enough sunlight and fresh air? Being underground’ll do weird things to your brain after a while.”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “You can talk. You’ve lived in this place for more than a century.”

“Hey. This isn’t about me.”

“I’ve been going for runs along the waterfront, getting back some strength. The sea’s different here from home, but... I like being near it again.”

Jack smiled. “Good” he said. He patted Gray’s arm, glad beyond measure that his brother finally seemed to be settling in with the team. “Now, I’ve gotta go handle some stuff with this case...” he walked into his office as Gray lingered by the entrance, leaning against the doorjamb as he listened. “Would you believe that guy I was on the phone with? Got so mad when I tipped him off about the alien corpse shoved in his filing cabinet. I’m just trying to help! And by help, I mean stop the alien breeding territory war that’s playing out in the council chambers. Some people just don’t know what’s good for–”

But his words were cut off, as the ground lurched beneath him, quaking and shuddering and sending objects in the office flying as Jack was knocked to the floor.

He recovered with a spinning head, shoving a fallen rack of papers off his back and hauling himself up into a sitting position. “Whoa! What happened?” He got to his feet, running out of his office into the main part of the Hub. Beside the door, Gray had clung on to the the door frame and was already pulling himself to his feet. Jack paused a moment to offer him a hand, helping him up. As he did so, he looked around. “Is it the Rift? Everyone okay?”

He saw Ianto sit up by Gwen’s work station, rubbing his head. “No broken bones. Slight loss of dignity. No change there, then.”

“Anyone hurt?” Owen asked, appearing at the door of the med bay. He shot Jack an accusing glare. “God, Jack, there’s a lot of heavy unsecured objects in this place. You don’t notice until they all go flying around, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t cleaned since the nineteen thirties.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to get into health and safety concerns?”

Gwen was breathing hard, paying them no attention. “The whole city must have felt that. The whole of South Wales.”

“I’ll go check the Rift monitor...” Tosh was already on her feet, typing at her keyboard. “No, there’s nothing. This was something else.”

“Are we under attack?” said Gray, following Jack into the main space of the Hub. He looked on edge, hunted, his eyes hollow as he stared apprehensively up at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna take a look outside” said Jack, already running to the door.

* * *

Later, when they heard the voices of the daleks, they were all grouped around Tosh’s computer, staring apprehensively; Jack’s heart plunged, his lungs filling with ice. _No, no, they’d survived so much, it couldn’t be like this_... This wasn’t something he could protect them from. His chest ached as he remembered what that first death had felt like.

Ianto and Gwen were nearest, on either side of him. He leaned down and gave them a kiss on the forehead each, before wrapping his arms around them, pulling them close. Ianto pressed close to him, the side of his face against Jack’s shoulder. Jack could feel him trembling slightly, muscles rigid; he squeezed him tighter, understanding only too clearly the kind of memories that voice must evoke for Ianto.

Gray’s hand was on Jack’s other arm, tensing on the fabric of his shirt and meeting his eye. They’d both heard the stories as children, though then they hadn’t felt real, a nice sort of escapism from the actual threat that hung over their town. But everyone had known, everyone had heard the old tales of the daleks and their unstoppable hoards, cutting a bloody trail across the universe.

It wasn’t hard to imagine now. Not with the grating, metallic voice coming through the speakers. Jack pulled Gray into the hug. Tosh and Owen had their hands clasped together in front of them and he reached around Ianto’s shoulder, nudging them in close too.

No one said anything. They all just watched, waiting for whatever would come next.

* * *

Despite everything – despite the planets looming large in an unfamiliar sky, despite the daleks killing on the streets – the sight of the Doctor’s face and Martha’s, and all these others fighting for the world, instilled a little hope in Tosh, she had to admit.

But when she'd realised what Harriet Jones planned to do, what it would cost her, she'd felt her heart ache. Tosh remembered her, her part in the business with the Slitheen; whatever else she’d done, she couldn’t let a woman like that die. Not when she’d saved them all.

“Hang on” said Tosh into the microphone, gently pushing Ianto aside from the video camera and taking his place. “I think, if I reroute the signal, scramble the location data...” she typed furiously, aware that a woman’s life was in her hands. “Yes! I’ve redirected the apparent origin point for the subwave network. The daleks won’t be able to trace it back to you, Mrs Jones.”

Jack grinned, coming up behind her to look over her shoulder. “Where’ve you sent them?”

“A roofless hut on on a clifftop, formerly belonging to a goat farmer on a tiny island off the coast of Chile” said Tosh. “Abandoned since the nineteen-sixties, nothing there for miles and miles. I’m only sad I won’t get to see their angry waving eyestalks when they figure out they’ve been conned.”

Jack threw back his head and laughed out loud. “Toshiko Sato, I _told_ you you were good.”

On the video link Harriet Jones was smiling, almost lost for words. “I owe you my life. Thank you.”

Tosh smiled back, a little grimly. “Let’s settle it by saving the world.”

* * *

And then there was the Doctor, and Ianto knew – he supposed he’d known right from the beginning – that Jack was leaving them. Again.

“Oscillating four... and nine. Thank you, Martha Jones.” Jack was grinning as he flipped the phone shut, ending the call, his excitement written all over his face.

Tosh was trying to peer curiously over his shoulder, at his wrist strap. “What’re you doing with that?”

He tugged his arm a little out of her reach. “I just fixed the teleportation capabilities of my vortex manipulator.”

“It was as simple as that? Just two additional digits?” despite the urgency of the situation, Ianto could tell Tosh was fascinated; he was glad for her at least. It certainly seemed better than the persistent sense of grinding, consuming dread that he had been feeling since this began.

Jack sighed, relenting a little and letting her take hold of his arm and inspect it. “Look, Tosh, maybe now’s not really the time to get into this, huh? The Doctor needs me.”

“...Will you let me take a look when you get back?”

Jack sighed, dramatically. “For you? Anything. Promise.” He dropped a swift kiss on the crown of her head, nodding to Gwen who was handing him the big gun. “I gotta go. I gotta find the Doctor.” He hefted it over one shoulder and looked around at the rest of them, who’d all paused in their various tasks to look at him. “I’ll come back” he told Gwen firmly, clasping Gray’s arm beside him for a moment. As did he met Ianto’s eye. A whole wordless conversation passed between them for a moment; Ianto only felt a little reassured by it. “I’m coming back” repeated Jack firmly, with a smile.

“Don’t worry about us. Just go” Gwen told him.

“We’ll be fine” Ianto said with a slight nod, trying to keep his voice even. He thought it was about all he could manage without breaking apart.

“You’d better be” said Jack. And with one last look around at the assembled team, he pressed a button at his wrist and disappeared.

* * *

“Tosh!” shouted Gwen. “Get back!”

“Just... wait” said Tosh. “Any moment...”

“Tosh, this is no bloody time to test your theories!” shouted Owen. “You’ve got to–”

“Wait” said Tosh. “In five… four…”

“Sod this. I’m not going down without a fight” said Owen, and began firing on the dalek, the clatter of his gunfire too loud in their ears. Gwen and Ianto soon followed.

“...Two... one.”

Owen lowered his gun; outside, the dalek had frozen. “What?”

Ianto squinted, as Gwen drew her fingers through the gelatinous air where the bullets had frozen along their trajectories. Gray turned and looked at Tosh. “This was you?”

She beamed. “Automated time lock. The prototype version for the portable ones actually. I knew it would work!”

Owen dropped his gun, ran over to her and kissed her. “God you’re smart” he said, a little angrily, a little more reverent, as they broke apart. “Should've known if anyone was going to save us all, it would be you.”

* * *

It was several hours after the sky cleared again, before Jack got back.

He had a moment of panic when he came in with Mickey and Martha at his heels, seeing the burnt-out shell of a dalek sitting in the open cog door, the doorway around it scarred with bullet holes and the warning lights smashed and broken. But a moment later he heard Gwen’s voice. “Jack’s back!” she shouted, and a moment after that, he found himself being hugged from all directions as his team all crowded around.

When he opened his eyes after kissing Ianto – still rather ashen-faced, but safe, alive – he met Martha and Mickey’s eyes, smiling from the depths of the hug as Tosh pulled Owen and Gray in too. “C’mon” he said, holding out his free hand. “Room for two more...”

* * *

Several hours of tidying up later, Jack decided it was time to move the dalek. Perhaps the archives, he thought. He’d want to give Owen some tissue samples for the DNA files, but other than that–

He stopped short, seeing Tosh sitting on a wheeled office chair beside the dalek. She was wearing her glasses, an apron, and what looked like yellow washing up gloves, elbow deep in the dalek’s casing.

“Uhhhh... Tosh?”

“Hi, Jack!” she said cheerily, barely looking up as she rooted around inside.

He raised an eyebrow. “Having fun, huh?”

She looked up at him. “Yeah” she admitted. She made a face. “I first came here to strip this thing and put it away somewhere... I didn’t want Ianto to have to do the archiving for this.”

Jack winced. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“But this is _amazing!_ ” continued Tosh, leaning down again and wrenching out handfuls of wires and electrical components from the ruined outer shell, lightly coated in partially-burnt organic goo, “this technology, the integration of organic and robotic elements... I mean, obviously I know they tried to kill us and... also everyone else… earlier, but...” with a little more care, she popped out a small box, inspecting it from every angle. “There’s so _much_ in here. I _think_ this is the battery pack...”

“It is” said Jack, poking his head over the railing. “Careful with that thing if you take it apart. It’s a miniaturised temporal-kinetic cell... built insanely powerful, to keep that thing going forever. Runs off normal ambient ripples in space and time. Designed to be hardy enough for a soldier, but to provide enough power to fuel constant blaster fire for years.”

Tosh was looking at it, turning it over and over. “Or, on a low-output hibernation setting, to fuel the life-support system for _centuries_ ” she said, a look of excited realisation crossing her face as she pulled out another one. “Oh! It’s got a second backup cell. Even better.”

“Two is better than one, after all.” Jack came to stand beside her, peering down indulgently as she opened her toolkit, inspecting the screws before choosing her most appropriate alien screwdriver. “Toshiko Sato, you’ve got that look about you” he said. “Like you’re planning something.”

She looked up at him and grinned. “You’re right. I’ve got an idea, Jack.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it. I’m sure it’ll be good. But hey... wanna put that on hold a moment?”

She looked up at his tone.

“I still owe you a look at my vortex manipulator.”

Her eyes went wide, as though all her dreams had been realised at once. “Really?”

He had to smile. “I promised, didn’t I?” He unbuckled it from his wrist carefully, feeling less cautious handing it over than he usually would, though his wrist still felt bare without it. “The Doctor broke the teleportation and time-travel capabilities again” he explained with a sigh. “Everything else is there, though. And I can show you how I fixed it _before_.”

Tosh frowned. “Oh… you couldn’t fix it again in the same way?”

“I wish” said Jack. “He did a more thorough job this time. Completely fused the teleportation circuit. You’d need to replace the whole spatio-temporal locator chip at _least_ , and it’s just a nightmare trying to find the parts in this millennium...”

Tosh gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s okay” he said. “I’m kinda used to it now. And I don’t plan on being in a situation where I need to teleport for... a good while.”

“Yeah” said Tosh. Already he could see her frowning down at the device in her hands, that look on her face again.

He patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stay up all night.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How can you just say that after giving me _this_? And with the dalek batteries project to work on too...”

He laughed. “Fine, fine, whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself.” He touched her shoulder, smiling softly. “You did good today, Tosh. You kept everyone safe while I was gone. So... thank you.”

She looked up at him. “It’s what I’m here for, Jack.”

* * *

Jack came to stand next to Gray on the roof, staring up at the sky above them. For once it was a clear night and the stars were beginning to come out over the bay, peeping through the city light pollution.

He blinked as he spotted a shadow pass over the half moon, then smiled as he recognised it a moment later. “Myfanwy seems like she’s in a good mood at least.”

Gray smiled slightly. “I think she’s just glad the stars are back to the way they usually are. She must have been so confused, all those new planets in the sky.”

“You know the feeling, huh?”

Gray nodded. “I’m getting used to it, here.”

“Stuff like today just... happens sometimes, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Overhead Myfanwy let out a shriek, and Gray whistled back. A moment later she was flying down, landing with a clatter on the roof beside them. Gray rummaged in his jacket pocket and took out a handful of slightly sticky-looking Maltesers, which he rolled one by one across the rooftop to her.

“I thought she preferred dark chocolate?” said Jack.

Gray shrugged. “So did we. But as me and Ianto discovered, she makes an exception for these.”

They both watched, as Myfanwy snapped up the Maltesers with a pleased sound, launching herself back into the night sky again. Gray was smiling faintly.

“You really seem to be bonding with her” said Jack.

“Ianto showed me how to talk to her” said Gray, as they watched her swoop overhead. “It’s not that hard to get through to her really. Just takes a little bit of patience.”

Jack smiled to himself. “Did Ianto ever tell you about the time we caught her? It was right back when I first met him. Well... nearly the first time.” He smiled at the memory even though it was a little tarnished now by what he hadn’t known then. Not by the thought of Ianto deceiving him, but rather by the realisation of how much pain Ianto had been in, though he’d never shown it.

“He... mentioned it” said Gray, a small smile starting on his face. “Said you got dropped from the air on top of him. So I told him about that dumb stunt you tried when we were kids.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “…Which one?”

“The one with the elastic cord and the boat–”

“...Oh no...”

“–where you fell into the sea trying to impress that boy in your class, and got swarmed by angry seabirds–”

Jack made a face. “You told Ianto _that_ story? That one’s _embarrassing!_ ”

Gray shrugged. “He thought it was pretty funny, actually.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Well I’m glad you two are bonding. I guess.” In truth, he didn’t really mind; a few months ago he would have been surprised and thrilled just to see Gray smile, let alone hold back infectious laughter like he was now.

“...Where is Ianto, anyway?” asked Gray, after a moment had passed. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

“His sister’s on the phone, asking for a proper explanation of what happened today. Turns out there were consequences for Ianto telling her about Torchwood, which are that the usual glossing over alien stuff isn’t good enough anymore.” Jack sighed and shook his head. “After a day like today, though… makes me think we’re not gonna be able to keep this stuff quiet so easily, anymore. It’s the twenty-first century, after all. Everything’s changing.”

Gray nodded. They were silent for a little while longer, and Gray looked up into the sky, narrowing his eyes a little. “...Something’s coming” he said slowly.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I mean, that’s pretty much true the whole time around here, but–”

“No. I mean...” Gray looked at him, took a breath. “I felt something, earlier. I felt it touch my mind.” A small frown appeared on his face. “It felt almost like...”

“What? Like what?”

“...It can’t be, though.”

“What?”

Gray shook his head. “I can’t explain.”

Jack frowned. Suddenly, something in Gray’s voice and posture worried him. “Some sort of broad-sweep telepathic scan, then? ...But then I should've been able to feel it.”

“You were distracted. It was so quick, just the lightest touch. And anyway, you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t–” he broke off, sighing. “I think something’s still watching.”

“Lots of things will be, after that” Jack said, looking up into the sky and folding his arms. “The Shadow Proclamation will talk this over for aeons, knowing them. Everyone all across the universe will know the names of the twenty-seven planets that were taken, with Earth slap-bang in the middle. My guess is, we’re gonna have a lot more visitors pretty soon.”

Gray shook his head. “It’s been here longer than that. Today made me realise it’s been there all the time. Waiting.”

“Vague. Ominous. Like it” said Jack, nodding. Then he went serious again. “Not much we can do about it right now though, I guess. I suppose we could scan your brain for telepathic links, trace the signal back–”

But Gray was shaking his head. “It’s gone now, passed over. But it’s going to come back. I could feel it.”

Jack put a hand on Gray’s shoulder as they watched Myfanwy fly past one of the high wisps of night clouds that had begun to gather over the water, drifting across the moon. “Whatever it is” he said. “We’ll be ready.”

* * *

Two days later, Owen was packing up to go home for the night when Tosh came into the med bay.

“Hey, Tosh” he said, putting away a rack of samples in a refrigerated drawer.

“Owen. Sorry I haven’t been around much, since... you know.”

“S’okay” Owen said, taking off his gloves and throwing them away, sticking his hands in the pockets of his labcoat. “Jack’s got me sequencing dalek DNA, bringing in samples from all over the world to get a larger sample size. Bloody tedious work. Nearly done now, though.”

She nodded, coming closer to him beside the examination table. She seemed animated, triumphant and confident with it. She always looked beautiful like that, Owen thought. “I’ve been working, too” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ve... I think I’ve fixed the battery problem, on the portable time locks.”

He looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Dalek batteries” she said, holding up her hand. In it hung two cords, each bearing a silver disc no bigger than a ten-pence piece, with a small inset button at the center. “I integrated the tech into the time locks. There are only two, and they’re still prototypes–” she laughed softly, “–and if we never encounter another dalek it’ll be too soon, so I really hope I don’t have the opportunity to make another one. But...” Tosh’s whole face was alight with a smile as she held out one of the time locks on its cord. “Here” she said. “I want you to have the second one.”

Owen blinked. “...Me? I mean, not that I’m complaining, Tosh, but shouldn’t it go into the archives? This could be useful on a field mission one day, and we should record – and oh, god, I’m beginning to sound like Ianto aren’t I...”

“A fate worse than death for you, I suppose?” Tosh grinned. “But no, it’s fine. I even checked with Jack. He said if I’m making personal time locks, it’s best to keep them on hand in case we need them. And since there are two, and I want to keep one myself, then I think it’s only fair I get to decide who to give the other one to.” She picked up his hand, pressing the device into his palm and closing his fingers decisively over it. “And if there’s anyone I’d want to keep safe, to give a little extra time when they need it, it’s you.”

Owen opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he sighed. “Sometimes I feel like all my time is extra time. Coming back from the dead’ll do that to you.” But he saw her look, and closed his fingers tighter around the little metal disc. “But thanks, Tosh. I wouldn’t say no to a little more time. Especially from you.”

She smiled brilliantly, taking the time lock from his hand. She unraveled the cord and put it carefully around his neck, smoothing it down on his chest. She touched her own pendant, identical. “We match.”

“We do” he said, inspecting the device. “...Can I test it now?”

“Of course” said Tosh, looking rather smug. She smoothed down the front of his shirt again, fussing with it as she stepped closer. “It should work indefinitely, so it’s not like you’ll drain the batteries too much...”

He clicked the button, and the familiar bubble of time expanded around them. He peered up at the top of it, a protective dome above their heads. “ _Bam_. And just like that, we’ve got all the time we want” he said.

“Yeah” said Tosh. There was a mischievous, triumphant look on her face, her eyes bright as she pushed him back against the desk, whispering against his lips. “All the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I earn that "Doctor Who season 4 adjacent" tag.....seriously though, I hope this rather bitty chapter made sense. I decided early on that I didn't want to include absolutely everything in TSE/JE concerning Torchwood, largely because I don't think that much of it would be appreciably different from canon? But I did want to include some moments to give a sense of it, and because team Torchwood were so good in those episodes, and I wanted to do it in this AU.  
> (Also, for a more canon-flavoured take on TSE/JE, see my other fic, [On saving the world, and what happens after](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993903). Fun fact: that story actually owes its existence to me rewatching and trying to figure out the timeline of that episode so that I could write this chapter; while doing that I started feeling emotions about Ianto and Gwen and had to fic it. So please enjoy that too!)  
> Anyway, they've come a long way since the beginning of this story! ....Which...also means we're getting nearer to a certain other significant arc in this story! (((: So tune in soon for more of this fic!


	13. Chapter 13

_**[8:40am, 7 th September 2009]** _

Gray was standing by the waterfront, staring out over the bay when it happened.

He liked to watch the waves; the sound and the sight of them set off something bone deep within him, as familiar as the feeling of sand between his fingers and toes, the soft background sounds of his parents’ and his brother’s voices even before he was old enough to understand what they were saying.

It was those old sense memories that had grown barbs in the humid, death-rank silence all those years, festering away inside him and turning to pain and torture in themselves. That was what _they_ did, when they kept you there; took away all that had been good and familiar and kind and turned it to a poison, a pain that had twisted him and filled him with nothing but violence and desperation.

Lately though, the memories of his childhood were starting to feel easier, less tainted by the resentment that time had filled him with. Now he could stand by the sea and listen to the waves and breathe in the salt wind – with a dampness and a colder bite to it here than back home – and feel comforted by it again.

Now it was blowing his hair across his face; over the time he’d been here he’d let his hair grow longer again. Immediately after he’d first been pulled from the wreckage he’d hacked it off in filthy hanks and kept it short, the thought of it matted and crusted with blood – and worse – too close. But since he’d been here he’d let it grow, and now he had fluffy curls just past his chin. It made him look more different to his brother, in a way he quite liked.

(He looked like their father, they’d both been slightly surprised to find when his hair had started to curl again and his face to soften a little. It made Gray feel a way he couldn’t describe; Javic – no, Jack, he was good at saying it out loud but in his head he still got it wrong on occasion – had always looked more like their mother, but Gray sometimes did a double-take when he caught the sight of himself in a reflective surface and saw something of their father staring back.)

The sun was shining on his upturned face through the clouds over the bay, when the screaming began in his head.

Or... not exactly screaming, Gray would think later. That implied something too human. This was a sort of tearing shriek as though of metal on metal. It hurt like someone had reached into his mind and started clawing at it, setting his teeth on edge and his whole body to shuddering.

His vision went white as it grew louder and more high-pitched, a nightmarish cacophony. He was vaguely aware that he’d fallen to his knees, but the pain of his kneecaps hitting the concrete felt a thousand miles away, detached almost. He stumbled hard against the railing, clutching his head. His throat burned and he realised dimly that he was screaming too, even though he couldn’t hear the sound over the noise tearing through him like electrified razor wire.

But worse than that, the worst part of all, was how _familiar_ it felt.

He didn’t know how long it lasted; it could have been years, or only a minute. But then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was gone. Gray found himself half lying on the concrete, half slumped against the railings, clinging so hard to the wrought iron that his knuckles were white, fingers cut open and nails torn where he’d scrabbled at the concrete ground. He felt something warm drip into his eye, and put his hand to the place on his forehead to find blood there. He must have hit his head, but he couldn’t remember it.

He reeled, mind still half in that place. Even the part of him still here in the present was disorientated, half-convinced that everything since _then_ had been a dream.

He should have known, was all he could think. He should have known he’d never be free of them. Maybe he’d never really left.

It wasn’t exactly like their touch on his mind had been, back then. It was different now, said some small part of him, but he was barely conscious of it: the similarities were unmistakable, the cloying grasp of them in his head, curling about what made him and scooping it out until there was only pain, the screams of his dying friends and them, them, _them_ –

He’d been feeling the touch of them on his mind for months now. Before he’d been able to ignore it, just about, or explain it away as just his imagination. But he should have known, he shouldn’t have let himself slip, _shouldn’t have, shouldn’t_ –

“Excuse me young man, are you alright?”

Gray's head darted up, eyes wide and watering, the light around him too bright as he saw the figure against the sky. A woman, not one he recognised. She was leaning down to touch his shoulder. “You seemed to be having some sort of... fit…? I phoned for an ambulance, but, um–”

He scrambled back, flinching away from the touch until he was backed up against the railings.

“It’s okay!” said the woman, hands out in front of her. “It’s fine... um… my mum was a nurse, in the war. If you’ll just let me...”

She was reaching out to him, _reaching out like they had reached out_ , crowding him back against the railings. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t – _they’d been able to get to his mind even now, even here, because what else could it be, what, what, what?_ – and suddenly he heard himself shout, his fist already swinging before he realised what he was doing.

It struck her in the jaw, knocking her back with a cry onto the pavement. Gray lurched to his feet, eyes wide as he stared at her, beginning to struggle up, eyes unfocused and a hand going to her bloody lip as though in surprise. In the distance he could hear sirens, drilling into his brain. They probably weren’t for him. But soon they would be.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay here.

For a moment Gray looked over his shoulder at the water. Then he turned his back on the waves and began to run.

* * *

“But seriously though, that was a weak cover story even by your usual standards” Owen was saying as they walked out through the hospital’s glass doors. “I mean, the part about you being a couple of concerned neighbours was bad enough–”

“Hey!” protested Jack, linking his arm through Ianto’s and pasting on his best sappy grin, “I think we sold it pretty well, didn’t you?”

Ianto patted Jack’s hand on his arm. “We were exemplary.”

“You don’t look the all-but-married suburban gay couple part though” said Owen.

Jack tilted his head, amused. “No? What do we look like?”

“You look like a couple of blokes who work for a secret organisation that hunts aliens and have quickies in the greenhouse in your spare time, which, incidentally, you _sometimes_ forget to wipe the CCTV for,” complained Owen, unlocking the SUV. “Obviously.”

“You’re not _still_ upset about the greenhouse are you?” said Jack.

“Your plants don’t mind” said Ianto.

“Gwen _definitely_ didn’t mind. And we even cleaned up afterwards.”

“ _I_ cleaned up” said Ianto, shrugging. “But such is life.”

“ _No_ _ne_ of this is the point” said Owen, getting into the driver’s seat as Jack opened the passenger door and Ianto went around to the backseat with their equipment. “Point is, figure out a better cover story next time _–_ ”

“Okay then, mister jellied eel salesman–”

“– _beforehand_. And preferably one that doesn’t imply I’m the struggling medical student next door… _or_ that I’m your third.” Owen grimaced.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be the one to say no...” Jack winked at him, raising an eyebrow to Ianto who was rolling his eyes.

“I would” said Ianto, flatly.

“Me too. No further with that thought ever again, Harkness” said Owen. “Or Ianto gets to sit in the front and you’re in the back with the alien hitchhiker.”

Jack pouted. “Didn’t realise you were my mother.”

“...Getting some _very_ mixed messages here.”

“Well–”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Owen rolled his eyes at the sound of the voice from outside, winding down the window. “You again.”

“You’re Torchwood!” said the doctor, a little out of breath from having run from the hospital doors. Owen watched him glance down at the engraved name on the car.

Jack leaned over him, peering out the window. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“There are bodies going missing!”

He looked over at Jack, who gave him a slight shrug. Owen sighed deeply, rolling down the window more fully. “Listen mate–”

Jack stopped him, leaning over to look out. “What bodies, where?”

“It started two months ago. Bodies, taken down to the mortuary, then the records just stop. Five of them. Five in two months. And none of them white. One of West Indian descent, one African, three Chinese, all male.”

“What was your name again?” said Jack.

“Rupesh. Rupesh Patanjali.”

Jack drew back, looking between Owen and Ianto, who had leaned forward in the back seat. “What do you think?”

“Someone screwed up the record-keeping” said Owen.

“NHS” said Ianto, nodding.

“Yeah. Too much red tape” said Jack. “Sorry, but, good luck with it.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” Owen gave the man a smile, firmly took Rupesh’s hand off the window sill before rolling the window back up. “Bye!” And with that he drove away, leaving the doctor standing in the car park.

“Think he could’ve been onto something?” asked Jack, after they’d driven a little way from the hospital.

“Dunno. Sounds plausibly normal enough. Hospital bureaucracy fucks up all the time.”

“Yeah...” said Jack, frowning slightly.

“I’ll keep an eye on the hospital records in the next few weeks” said Ianto. “If need be, we can always go back and bring him in. Though... we’ll have to catch him up on what he’s missed.”

“Oh?” said Jack. “You did it, then?”

Ianto nodded. “Retcon in his water bottle in the cloakroom. While the two of you were bickering.”

“Bloody efficient, I’ll give you that” said Owen, shaking his head.

“I do try my best.”

“He _was_ pretty good though” said Jack, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Inquiring mind. Meticulous. Didn’t _completely_ freak out at the sight of an alien. Reminded me a little of you when I first met you, Owen. Less abrasive though.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. And you forgot _nice arse_ , thank you very much.”

“How could I” said Jack, grinning. “Ianto, I want that correction on the record.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Shame we’re not hiring.”

“Yeah.”

The three of them lapsed into silence for a little while, as Owen drove them through the streets.

“We _could_ hire someone else though. Someday” said Jack, thoughtfully. “There aren’t many of us. Think how busy we’ve been recently.”

“Not a doctor” said Owen. “Don’t need any help, thanks very much. And I don’t want anyone fucking with my filing system.”

“ _You_ have a filing system?” Ianto put in mildly from the backseat, sounding genuinely surprised.

Jack cut off Owen’s retort. “Alright then... Ianto. You do the work of at least two people yourself–”

“Thank you for acknowledging it, sir, but like Owen I don’t think I need or want an assistant. Other people get in the way.”

“But you might want a promotion–”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days” muttered Owen, turning into the Hub’s garage.

Jack chuckled, seeing Ianto’s look. “Alright fine, I was just trying to help. Message received.” He shook his head and opened the passenger door as Owen got out of the car. “Shall we go see what the others’ve been up to?”

* * *

Gwen came into the Hub frowning, still thinking about what she’d seen this morning; the way those children had just _stopped_ had unnerved her. It was quiet, quieter than it usually was at this time of the morning. “Jack?” she called, as the cog door rolled open. There were lights on in the main space, but everything was silent. “Gray? Ianto?”

Those were the three most likely to be found around the Hub at odd hours, she’d found. It helped that Jack and Gray lived there, and Ianto practically did too these days.

“No, just me” she heard Tosh call out to her cheerfully from the main space. She was tinkering with something complicated-looking at her desk, circuit boards carefully laid out side by side on the surface, but she set down the pair of needle-nose pliers she was using when Gwen came up to stand behind her. “Morning!”

“Morning” said Gwen. “Where is everybody?”

“Out. Owen went with Jack and Ianto to the hospital... hitchhiker, nearly fully grown. They should be back soon. Gray said he was going out on the waterfront.”

Gwen nodded. “Any rift spikes? Maybe about...” she looked at her watch, “...ten minutes ago?”

“No, it’s been quiet all morning. I’ve been improving the forecasting software too, we’re expecting only minor ripples all week… want me to check? It could be a bug.”

She frowned. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just...”

“What? Did something happen?”

“I saw something... weird, on my way here” Gwen said, logging in to her own system and starting a search. “Tosh, have there been any reports of something happening to children?”

* * *

It was 10:30 when it happened again.

Gray was sitting in an alleyway with his back to the wall, his mind ringing with it – screaming with it – his fingers scrabbling at the tarmac. It was different this time, he was just aware enough to notice. The feeling was the same, but amidst the haze of pain there were voices filtering through. But as much as he tried to grasp the words they only slipped away, leaving him disorientated and nauseous, dry-retching and clawing at the ground.

When it faded he was panting, fingers bleeding and throat aching. He breathed hard, pressing his back against the wall and pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He should go home, he knew. Home to the Hub, to tell Jack what had happened. He’d know how to explain this; all this time, he’d never been anything but heartbreakingly kind to Gray, little though he deserved it.

Whatever he did, he needed to move though. He couldn’t sit still a moment longer, not with the nervous energy coursing through him. He pushed himself up, his body as tired as though he’d been sprinting before. Maybe he had, he realised a moment later; he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and now he was in a part of the city he didn’t recognise. But he could see the sun; that would help.

He needed to get back to the water, he decided. You knew where you were, with the sea. After that he could decide what to do next.

* * *

Ianto sat on the steps, squinting in the sunlight as Jack walked away from him.

A child, he thought. Where could he find Jack a child?

He sighed inwardly. He knew one place he could try.

He got to his feet, and went to go get the SUV.

* * *

Ianto nodded his thanks as Rhiannon passed him a plate. He didn’t feel very hungry, but she’d always been proud of her cooking, and he did like her spinach dip. He ate a chunk of bread; the food made him feel a little better. Even though he’d not had much success getting David or Mica to the Hub yet, he thought Jack wouldn’t mind if he stayed a little longer.

“So” said Rhiannon, leaning close to him conspiratorially, “how’s your boyfriend?”

Ianto felt his face twist into a variety of expressions at the word; it was still a little terrifying in its distillation of what they were, still a little surreal when he heard it applied to the delicate, complicated balance that was _him and Jack_ , but he always felt a thrill of warmth through him when she said it. It was so... _normal_ , comfortable, both of which were always in short supply around Torchwood. It was only recently he’d even consciously realised he wanted comfortable normality to enter into his and Jack’s relationship. He had no idea if Jack felt the same, but he rather suspected not. Normality and Jack had never seemed to get on.

“Uh, earth to Ianto…?”

“Um.” He realised he was staring blankly, breaking a crust of bread into smaller and smaller pieces between his fingers. “Yeah. He’s okay.”

“What’d he do for your birthday last month? Take you out somewhere posh, was it?”

Ianto cast his mind back a few weeks, to the upscale Italian restaurant where Jack had booked a table for Ianto's twenty-sixth birthday; they’d got as far as looking at the wine list before they’d been called back to the Hub. An incursion of alien wasps, the judicious application of a flamethrower, and a few retconned tourists later, and it had been past midnight and they’d been too exhausted to do much but fall into bed together in Jack’s bunker. At least until they’d woken up halfway through the night for sleepy kisses that turned into slow, heartbreakingly tender sex in the half-darkness – of the kind that only seemed to happen at moments like this, and that they didn’t really ever talk about the next day – before dropping off to sleep again, tangled up in each other in the cramped single bed. Waking too early the next morning to a report of a blowfish with a gun holding up a man at the cash machine outside Sainsburys, insisting on not letting Jack leave for the scene until they’d had coffee. Gwen had even got him a slightly belated birthday cake on her way back from a crime scene, which all six of them had shared the next afternoon.

On balance, Ianto thought, he couldn’t complain; Jack was there, and as twenty-sixth birthdays went, he didn’t think he could do much better. And besides, making it to another birthday felt like something of an achievement in itself, with the way Torchwood was.

Not that he felt like explaining this to Rhiannon; he'd barely know where to begin. Instead he just smiled. “Yeah, kind of. It was nice.”

“Well, no need to tell me anything, then.”

“Rhiannon–”

“Aw, come on. I’m just joking!” She grinned. “So, mum’s back home now. When’s he coming to tea?”

“I... don’t know if...” he faltered, collecting himself. “Soon” he promised with a sigh.

She nodded. “Good. And how are the aliens?”

He made a wiggly hand motion. “Eh. About the same as always.” He frowned, remembering what he’d come here for. “Well, actually, now you mention it...” he looked over at Mica, turned towards the TV.

Rhiannon caught the look. “Oh, no. This is something to do with that, isn’t it? The thing with the kids. It’s the aliens, making my kids talk with their voices.” Her voice dropped to a furious whisper. “How bloody _dare_ they–”

He nodded. “I know. I know. And we’re looking into it, I promise–”

“You better” said Rhiannon sternly. “I want this sorted, see?”

He frowned. “Um, about that... could you maybe let me borrow David and Mica for a bit? Just need to run some tests, nothing that'll–”

But she cut him off, her fury turned on to him now, dropping her voice even further below the sound of the TV. “Ianto Jones, if you think I’m going to let you experiment on my children, you’ve got another bloody thing coming.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then nodded, adjusting his tie nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

“Too right” she said. Then she sighed. “Listen, Ianto–”

But at that moment, the door opened, and Johnny came in. Ianto just managed to get to his feet before he was swept up into a crushing hug. “How’ve you been then, you smart bastard?” Ianto struggled to take a breath, finding himself almost lifted off his feet as outside, a car alarm started to wail. Johnny let him go, hands clasped on his upper arms. “Ey, whose car is that outside then, is that you? Black thing.”

“Oh, that’s the... that’s the company car.”

“You want to watch it on this estate, boy.”

“No, it’s fine. Top of the range, it’s got a triple deadlock.”

“Oh aye, sounds like it.”

Ianto turned, eyes widening in alarm as he ran out of the house.

* * *

Jack was feeling frustrated as he drove towards the hospital. He hadn’t been able to persuade Alice to let Steven come with him. Not that he really blamed her; it had been a long shot anyway. He’d try here instead. The retcon would likely be kicking in about now, leaving Rupesh Patanjali napping in the cloakroom, but he could always find another way to get into the children’s ward. Call in a couple of favours, find a child to do some tests on.

He was just thinking this, when his comm beeped.

“Jack.”

“Tosh. I’m just on my way back. Any progress?”

“Not much” she said. “Gwen’ll be back soon too, but we’re just waiting. I’ve got a search of UNIT records running, but nothing’s turned up yet. I’ve been monitoring the news and there’ve been no more incidents involving children. But... that’s not what I wanted to tell you, Jack.”

Something in her tone made him frown. “What?”

“It was on the police scanner. They’ve got a search out for a man matching Gray’s description.”

“What? What the hell for?”

“Assault, apparently. Punched a woman on the waterfront, then ran away.”

“...It might not be him” Jack said.

“It might not!” Tosh reassured. “I just thought you should know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He turned Ianto’s car – he though Ianto wouldn’t mind him borrowing it, as Ianto had seen fit to take the SUV – to the right, heading for the police station instead. “Any word from Gwen? Did she find anything?”

“She’s on her way back from visiting this Timothy White. She says she’ll report when she gets here. Not much to do in the meantime.”

“Right.” He bit his lip, just barely avoiding a traffic island in his haste. “Well, I’ll be back soon.”

“Anything Owen and I can do in the meantime?”

He smiled, gently. “Do something fun. Take a break, on me.”

As he pulled into a parking space in a narrow lane a little way off, he was distracted enough that he didn’t notice the discrete, dark-windowed car turning into the end of the street behind him, or that it had been following him for some time now.

* * *

The police station was busy, people rushing through the corridors and waiting in plastic chairs, the sounds of phones ringing through the lobby. Jack flashed his ID and made it past the desk, to be confronted with a familiar face.

“Andy!” he said. “Gwen’s not here so you got me instead. Got a question for you.”

“Oh, blimey, here we go” said Andy. “About the kids, is it? Tell you the truth, I was going to ask your lot about it. But if even Torchwood’s in the dark, then I don’t know what we’re even doing here.”

“It’s... not about that” said Jack. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “Not this time. Personal business.”

Andy raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“I was wondering if you’d picked up this man.” He took out his phone and showed Andy a picture of Gray. He thought it best not to mention who he really was; he didn’t think the police needed to know that the man ultimately responsible for half the city getting blown up a year ago had been living in the Hub all this time, recovery or no. “About my height and build, curly brown hair, green eyes. Distinctive scar on his jawline, right side. Would have been sometime today. I gather there was an... altercation by the waterfront.”

Andy frowned, typing into his computer. “Nope, can’t say we have him. I can see the incident record but he hasn’t been brought in.” Andy pulled up the CCTV stills. “Here. That look like your suspect?”

Jack’s heart sank a little at the word, and then further as he squinted down at the grainy picture. Even heavily zoomed in, he could see it was obviously Gray, in the clothes he’d been wearing when Jack had last seen him early that morning. He was backed up against the railing, a woman standing in front of him and reaching out a hand. Andy nodded at the screen. “That’s her, the witness. He started having some sort of seizure, sounds like. Phoned nine-nine-nine but when she tried to help he knocked her down and ran.”

Jack frowned. “A seizure? What kind of seizure?”

“No idea” said Andy. “Epileptic, maybe? Or, could’ve been a bad trip.”

“...And when was this?”

“Just after eight forty this morning” said Andy. “’Course, it took a while for any help to come; it was right when the children first stopped, and all the emergency services were running around like headless chickens. By the time anyone got there he was long gone.”

Jack sighed. Of course, that would have been too simple, to just find Gray here and bring him home. “Okay. Thanks.”

Andy was narrowing his eyes. “Hey, you don’t think this is... I don’t know, connected... do you? To the children thing, I mean. Only, it does seem like quite a big coincidence...”

“Torchwood business” said Jack, fixing on his best smile. “Top secret.”

“Okay, fine then” said Andy, a little petulantly. “I’ll still report anything else I hear to Gwen, but no one tells me anything. Bloody typical.”

“You do good work, Andy. Keep at it.”

“Tell Gwen to phone me.”

He gave Andy a salute and a wink as he turned away. “Will do.”

* * *

Jack’s smile faded almost as soon as he turned his back on Andy, mind churning with possibilities. By the time he reached the door of the police station and stepped out, it was gone altogether. He frowned, lost in thought as he went around the back of the building to the lane where he’d parked, out of the main car park.

He was just rummaging in his coat pocket for the keys when he heard a gunshot, echoing against the concrete. Pain exploded in his back for a moment, and he collapsed forward onto the bonnet of the car, fingers scrabbling at the paint.

And then his vision tunneled, and all went black.

He came back with a gasp, nearly hitting his head on the car’s hubcap as he jerked upwards. He leaned forward, breathing hard as he collected himself, staring around the lane.

Of course there was no one there; whoever had shot him was long gone. Jack frowned as he pulled himself up. Who’d try an assassination right outside the police station? Someone powerful, maybe with connections in the police. But obviously not someone who knew about his immortality. Could it be connected with whatever had happened to Gray? Could it be to do with the children?

Maybe someone was targeting him. And if they were after him, they’d be after his team next. He should go check on them.

He dragged himself up and ran a regretful finger over the bullet hole in the bonnet of Ianto’s car. Ianto would be more concerned for Jack, of course he would, but still. He smiled slightly, as he imagined Ianto shrugging and saying it imparted a certain James Bond quality to it.

He’d probably hug Jack too, when he found out what had happened; Ianto had started doing that when Jack got killed. He didn’t know what to think of how much his deaths seemed to upset Ianto; his usual approach was to file it away for future consideration, and try his best to ignore the way it made him feel so very warm inside.

Right now though, even thinking of Ianto wasn’t enough to distract Jack completely from the day he’d had. As he drove back to the Hub he had even more questions, with even fewer answers to them than when he’d set out this morning.

* * *

Gwen nearly tripped on the curb as she got out of the car, her mind utterly elsewhere as she walked to the tourist office door. Though she knew she should be thinking about Clem's connection to all this, about what it might mean, there was one part of that conversation she couldn’t stop dwelling on.

 _Pregnant_. It couldn’t be true though; she’d been so careful. Rhys wanted a baby she knew, but she’d been wary the whole time, because how could she care for a child when her life was like this? And even if she could, the powers they fought, the things they tangled with on a daily basis had a way of coming back to hurt those you loved; Gwen would never want that for her child, to be hurt or used as a bargaining chip by some enemy she’d made. Worrying about that for Rhys was bad enough.

She’d have to do something about it, she thought. A pang of guilt came over her as she thought of how Rhys would feel. He’d tell her he understood, of course he would. But he’d be disappointed.

(Rhys would make a wonderful father, she found herself thinking, before instantly crushing the thought back down into the dark corner of her mind from whence it came.)

She reached under the desk of the tourist office and pressed the button, the hidden door sliding open. She could just not tell Rhys, said some guilty part of her. Three weeks, it would be easy. He’d never know any different.

 _No_. No, that was just the panic talking, Gwen thought. And besides, she owed Rhys better than that. She’d lied to Rhys too much, outright or by omission. All the lies, they were what she always came to regret the most, and she’d committed to being honest with him a long time ago. This was too important to do anything else.

She forced herself back to the present, to think rationally. There was no evidence she really was pregnant. How could Clem possibly know? There was no way.

Still, she’d best find out, put this to rest once and for all so she could decide what to do – how to tell Rhys – or put it out of her mind completely.

The cog door rumbled open. Once again the Hub was quiet. Even Myfanwy seemed to be gone, or at least Gwen couldn’t see her up in her roost; maybe she was napping Gwen thought, distracted. Ianto had trained her to only fly out at his signal, and Ianto was meticulous about these things.

She forced herself to focus on the present, walking across the Hub and towards the medical bay. If she could just use the bioscanner, then she could–

“... _Fuck!_ ”

There were Tosh and Owen, leaning against the autopsy table, locked together in a heated kiss. They were still mostly clothed, but Owen’s shirt was off, his belt undone, and he was in the process of unbuttoning Tosh’s blouse, hands cramped awkwardly between them while she kissed down his neck.

Tosh was first to recover, whirling around. “Gwen…! Oh my god, sorry, I–”

“It’s fine!” Gwen sighed, turning around. She should be used to this sort of thing around here by now; she was, in fact, but she’d been... distracted. “Bloody hell, it’s like Jack and Ianto all over again.”

“Don’t bring them into this. What d’you want, anyway?”

Gwen turned back around to see Owen putting his shirt back on, slightly resentful. Tosh was blushing, but also biting her lip. “Oh, uh, nothing” Gwen managed. She didn’t want to do this with anyone watching. If it was true then she needed a moment to collect herself before she started telling the others.

“Well, seems a bit rude to just burst in without knocking, then” said Owen, shrugging his jacket back on and sticking his hands in the pockets resentfully.

“There isn’t exactly a door! It’s just open for anyone to walk in! ...Anyway, aren’t you two supposed to be researching?”

“We _were_ researching” said Tosh, blushing deeper. “I mean. We didn’t find much more beyond what we already knew... the whole world’s shouting about it, but I managed to hack into UNIT’s communications. The scan’s running on my computer now, so...” she shrugged. “It was time for a break. Jack even said so.”

“Mm-hmm” said Gwen. “Where are the others?”

“Dunno” said Owen. “Ianto took the car. But then Jack also disappeared off like he does, fuck knows where. I guess we can ask when they get back.”

“Gray’s been out all day, too” said Tosh, with a slight frown. “You haven’t... heard anything, have you?”

She shook her head. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah. He needs space sometimes. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Gwen nodded. “Right” she said, making a decision. She clasped her hands. “Well then, I’ve got a job for you two, if you’ve got so much free time.”

“We haven’t–” protested Owen.

“Down in the lower levels... floor minus fourteen, service hatch 8R” said Gwen, talking over him. She could still do this; she knew if she gave up now she’d lose her nerve. All she wanted was to know for sure, as soon as possible. This was throwing her off. “There’s a system warning for a leak in one of the old gas valves, off the tanks for the cryogenics. Could you maybe check it, patch the leak if it needs it? I’d ask Ianto, but he’s out.”

Tosh raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t see any warning before.”

“It just started” lied Gwen. “Better to get things fixed sooner rather than later, yeah?”

“Yeah” said Tosh, frowning. “Gwen–”

“Owen, you should go too!” said Gwen. “It’s always good to have a second person there when you’re around asphyxiant gases, yeah? Wouldn’t want to be alone if something happened!”

Owen grinned at her, slowly. “Yeah” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Thanks Gwen. Health and safety and all.” He extended a hand. “C’mon, Tosh, get your stuff.”

As soon as she was sure they were really gone, Gwen turned on the bioscanner, pacing impatiently as the system booted up.

* * *

Gray stood on the rooftop looking down at the Hub. He breathed in, breathed out.

He should go back, he knew. Jack would help him, he’d understand why Gray had hit that woman who was only trying to help. He’d know what to do.

But still. Guilt curled itself around him, creeping through his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be like this anymore; they’d thrown him off – _and how could it be them? They were long in the future, and they’d never been much for time travel as far as he’d known, but also, of course it was them, of course it was_ – and he felt as though he was losing his grip on the progress he’d made, the person he’d been working so hard to be.

He paced around the rooftop, desperate for something to cling on to. Someone he could talk to. Someone it wouldn’t hurt to look in the eye.

And... oh. Of course. He smiled slightly, looking down to the water tower. And then gave a whistle. Just like Ianto had taught him.

It didn’t take long. Sometimes Myfanwy got grumpy and petulant, but there she was flying up to meet him, leathery wings and a friendly screech. He smiled for the first time all day, digging in his jacket pockets to see if he had any treats for her; all he could come up with was a rather melted square of Dairy Milk, still in its torn wrapper. But she snapped it up in her beak happily enough.

For a while, Gray just sat there beside her, cross-legged on the roof and calming down as she sunned her wings.

He felt calmer now. He felt better. Maybe he could go home soon.

And then the screaming in his head began again.

* * *

Tosh walked with Owen in silence for a little while, down the stairs to the lower levels. It was a companionable sort of silence, but still the quiet pressed heavily in on her down here. Tosh hadn’t been down this far much, and in fact she hadn't had cause to since the incident with Ianto and Lisa. And those memories certainly didn’t do it any favours.

“Owen” said Tosh when they were about halfway down the stairs. She tugged the strap of her tool kit a little higher on her shoulder, twisted the ring on her finger; she’d taken to wearing it almost out of habit since Emmeline had given it to her, and it had become a comfort to have something to do with her hands when she was nervous. “Did Gwen seem a bit... _off_ to you, just now?”

He turned to look at her, frowning as he saw her face. “Off... how?”

“I don’t know, just... she was acting weird. Don't you think? She seemed like she sent us here to get us out the way.”

Owen laughed. “Are you serious?”

“...Yeah?”

He sighed, patiently. “Tosh, she was giving us a private place to slip off for a shag before the others got back. You got that, didn’t you?”

“...Maybe” said Tosh. “I mean, not that I’d say no to that after we make sure everything’s okay, but...” their footsteps echoed on the stairs as they walked; it was getting colder the further down into the Hub they went, and she pulled her jacket closer around her. “I don’t know, though.”

Owen looked a little more sharply at her. “You think there’s something else going on?”

“I... got that impression, yeah.”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know. Could be to do with this thing with the kids today?”

“Well, since I’m guessing she’s not hiding her secret partially-converted cyber girlfriend within plain sight, then yeah, maybe. Rhys’ll be so relieved.” Owen frowned as he saw her look. “Sorry. Shouldn’t joke about that shit, I know.”

“It’s fine” she said. “But that’s my point, you know? When someone around here isn’t telling us something, it never turns out well. I’d know.” She felt a little of the old guilt come back, grief for Mary rising up again out of nowhere. She’d learned the hard way to trust the others more. She’d come so far, but still it sometimes hurt.

“Tosh...”

“It’s fine. Just...” she reached out and touched his arm as they got down to floor minus fourteen, leaning against the doorframe. “We should watch her for odd behaviour, especially if there is no repair to be done in there. ...You know what this place can do to people.”

“...Yeah.” Owen nodded, punched in his keycode, and gestured as the heavy door groaned open. “After you.”

Tosh hefted her repair kit and went through. The corridor was long and slightly curved, built solid and deep under the bay, and the hatch they were heading for was right at the far end. When they got to it Tosh wasted no time in removing the screws and taking off the metal grating cover. Inside were the valves to the cryogenic gas tanks for this level, the monitor lights all lit up green. “No error showing on the system” said Tosh, frowning. “So Gwen was lying about that for a start.” She moved some plastic piping aside with her screwdriver, wondering if she should get a wrench and tighten the valves anyway. “How’re the atmospheric levels in here?”

“Normal” said Owen, peering at the PDA connected to the monitor. “Standard air concentrations.”

“Good” said Tosh. There were a couple of gas masks in the repair kit just in case, but she didn’t want to have to wear one. She frowned, pushing her head inside the open hatch and peering around. “To give Gwen the benefit of the doubt, it might be worth going into the vent a little way to check for leaks along the piping, but–”

And just then, the two PDAs began to beep, the klaxon above them beginning to wail as the emergency lights flashed red. Tosh nearly hit her head pulling back out of the vent. “What? What is it?”

Owen looked up at her, wide-eyed and stark in the flashing red light. “We’ve gone into lockdown” he said. “I don’t know how or why, but there’s… there’s a _bomb_ up there...”

She stared at him. “What–”

But she started as her comm beeped into life, Jack’s voice filling up her head. “Tosh! There’s a bomb–”

“Yeah, I heard. Jack, how did this happen?”

“No time to explain! You gotta get _out_ of there.”

“How long do we have?”

“Two minutes... no, less now. Listen, take Owen, and – no, Ianto, go with Gwen, _please_ , I need you to – no, _stop–_ ” he took a breath, focusing. “Tosh, listen.”

“There’s no time” she said, eyes meeting Owen’s. “We’re too far down–”

“Well, _make_ time!” barked Jack. “You’re gonna survive this, you hear me? I’ll meet you both on the surface. ...Might take a while, but I’ll be back. ...Listen, I gotta go, gotta get Ianto out–”

“Jack–!”

But he was already gone, the connection broken. Tosh gritted her teeth, grabbing Owen’s hand. “Fuck! We’re not going to make it back up in time, are we?”

“Not the way we came” he said grimly. The alarm was too loud, stopping her from thinking straight, emergency lights flashing red all along the corridor. “Even if we got up those stairs we’d never make it to the surface.” He gritted his teeth, eyes darting from side to side. “Uhhh... time locks. We’ve got the time locks, maybe we can–”

But she shook her head. “Time locks will only delay the explosion. We’ll still have to survive through that moment either way, unless we want to spend the rest of our lives trapped in a time bubble underground.”

“What, then?” he snapped his fingers, pacing nervously. “C’mon, Tosh, there’s got to be something. There’s _always_ something.”

She was breathing hard, mind racing. “Into the vent.”

“What?”

“Into the vent!” she yelled. “They’re built for access, to service the pipes. Solid, too; we’ll have a better chance of not getting crushed.”

“And what then?”

“They should connect to the outside...”

“Yeah, directly upwards!” shouted Owen. “We’d never–” he glanced at his PDA. “Oh, fuck. Three, two, one–”

The blast felt bone deep, the whole world shuddering with it. Immediately Tosh’s eyes darted up, and she was aware of herself screaming as cracks ran across the concrete ceiling; she saw it start to buckle and disintegrate as though in slow motion. This wasn’t going to work, there was no time, they would be crushed before–

She felt Owen push her to the hard ground, into the corner between the floor and the service hatch wall; she landed painfully on top of her open toolbox, but the pain barely registered with the adrenaline pulsing through her. Over her deafening heartbeat, she only barely heard the familiar _pop_ of a time bubble expanding around them.

And then there was silence and darkness; the alarms were shut off, the emergency lights gone. All that was left was their breathing, too loud in the sudden silence.

Owen stared at her as he pulled himself up and off her, the light from his PDA illuminating his face from below in harsh white light and black shadow. Tosh pulled herself up into a sitting position too, pushing down the urge to vomit, or to burst into tears. Not now; she’d promised Jack she’d get them out of here. Or as good as. She looked up at Owen. “Thanks” she said.

He shrugged. “Time lock” he rasped, holding up the pendant she’d given him. “Can’t delay the blast forever, maybe. But it can protect us from falling concrete chunks.”

“Smart.”

“It was mostly you, really.”

“Still.” On impulse, she pulled him into her arms, burying her face in the shoulder of his jacket for a moment. Then they broke apart. “Even in a time bubble, we can’t waste time. The battery on the light won’t last.”

He nodded, turning around to look outside of the bubble, reaching out a hand. Pressed up against the surface was a mess of broken concrete, wires, and smashed emergency lights, debris from the ceiling. Where they were sitting, the tunnel was still mostly intact, but now in the light, they saw that the ceiling had collapsed entirely down the end of the corridor from which they’d come, frozen in the middle of caving in. Around the curve of the passageway, Tosh could see the rubble get heavier, until the corridor ended in a tangle of concrete and steel beams.

“ _Fuck_ we were lucky” said Owen, voicing what Tosh was thinking. “If we’d been any closer to the centre of the blast–”

Tosh grimaced. “ _Don’t_. Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

He nodded. “I’ll tell you what does, though. We’re not getting out that way, that’s for sure.”

* * *

Gray raised his head as the white haze before his eyes cleared, pushing back the nausea. Once again, he’d fallen onto his hands and knees. Myfanwy was at his side, nudging his ribcage with her beak in obvious concern.

This time it was worse than before; he still couldn’t understand the voices screaming in his head, the metallic grind of it setting his teeth on edge, skin sweaty and fevered, shivering. But he knew, without knowing how he knew, that it was getting closer. More immediate, more sure of itself.

He had to tell them, he decided. This was bigger than him, he was sure of it. He could feel others somewhere, a host of shadowed figures connected by it. He licked his dry lips, raising his head and pushing back his hair. He looked down to the Hub; whatever this was, he knew, they could help. They’d taken him in, each one of them, trusted him – for better or for worse – and brought him into their family. He owed them some trust in return at least.

He got to his feet, balling up his fists and steeling himself, laying a hand on Myfanwy’s neck.

And then, as Gray watched, the ground above the Hub exploded in a blast of incandescent flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~The worst part about writing Children of Earth fix-it fic is how much I've had to rewatch Children of Earth for this~~  
>  Seriously though, despite all appearances I swear to god this is still very much a fix-it fic. But first I need to make it worse :))) So here we go I guess! I hope you're all sitting comfortably because this is going to go some places! I've been planning out story beats for this arc basically since I started this fic and I'm super excited to finally get here!  
> Let me know what you think, and/or come say hi on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe <3


	14. Chapter 14

Gray raised his head, eyes wide and staring. He could see fire burning down below, but he found himself frozen, rooted to the spot. Even from this distance he had felt the shock wave and the roll of heat off the explosion, and already he could hear the sound of sirens.

And then, gunshots. His fingers curled against Myfanwy’s back, desperate for something to hold on to; in this moment, he had no idea what to do.

Everyone he had here, in this time, was down there. Gray knew – or thought he knew – that his brother would survive, one way or another. At least, he knew it on an intellectual level. But looking down to the smoking wreckage, even that felt hard to believe right now.

He drew in a breath as he caught sight of a figure running through the dark. Another siren, closer this time, but he couldn’t see where it was coming from. He saw more movement, _something_ –

And then Myfanwy raised her head and let out a screech.

Gray flinched involuntarily at the sound. “Shh!” he pressed his finger to his lips to try to quiet her, aware of how childish and futile the gesture was. He felt himself starting to slip back into the past. _This felt like the times when they’d hid, back then, he and Javic..._ _they were both little enough to fit in the hollow tree then, or behind an inland dune. T_ _heir parents had told them to hide, if they couldn't run inland to safety_.

Those creatures always went for the children first, if they could get them.

All those times they’d passed over, and the one they hadn’t. Gray sank down to his knees, arms around himself as he shuddered. He could hear more gunshots, voices now, echoing against the stone below. He felt exposed and alone; more so than he’d ever felt since he’d come here. He tried to force himself to breathe normally, to force his thoughts into some sort of rational order.

First things first; he had to get off this rooftop. _And then_ –

Myfanwy interrupted his thoughts with another anguished shriek. He looked up at her just in time to see her take off from the ledge, flying out across the bay into the dark.

* * *

Deep underground there was very little sense of time. Tosh knew, rationally, that not much time had passed since the bomb blast. But it felt like an eternity they’d been down here, trying to find a way through what remained of the labyrinthine network of service ducts.

“Come on” she said, nudging Owen’s arm. “We should get going again.”

Owen groaned. “Aw, come on. Just a little longer.” He flexed his arms, wincing. “This much climbing can’t be good. Running, yeah, it’s practically in the job description, but my muscles aren’t used to this. I’m gonna feel like I was body-slammed by a weevil tomorrow.”

“I know” said Tosh. She felt it too, all her muscles like rubber from the unaccustomed clinging to small handholds for hours at a stretch. _Still though_. She licked her lips, nervous; she hated every moment they spent in the narrow service shafts that ran around the Hub, every dead end, every corner they turned and found the narrow pipeline collapsed or impassible. _P_ _ressing in on all sides of her_. She’d had plenty of nightmares about less. “We can rest when we’re out in the open.”

Owen gave an over-dramatic sigh. “ _Fine_ then” he said. “Which way now?”

“Up, of course” said Tosh. So far they’d been navigating mostly by trial and error, but Tosh’s instinct said to go up, to head for the ground level and the open air whenever possible.

“Of course. You want to go first this time, or should I?”

“You did last time” said Tosh. “I can take over handhold-making duty for a bit.”

“Well, at least I’ll get the good view this time, even if you will bring both of us down if you fall.” He passed the spanner into her waiting hands, slinging the strap of her heavy toolkit over his shoulder; she’d need her hands free. “After you, then.”

She smiled faintly, Owen waiting below her on the ledge as she made their first hand and foot holds. It was a slow, painstaking process, climbing up like this; these vertical ducts weren’t designed for human workers, only to carry bundles of cables and pipelines from floor to floor. But they did have sheet metal paneling with edges about a half a metre apart. She’d realised, soon after they first clambered away from the explosion and into the duct, that she could use the spanner from her toolkit to lever down the edges of the panels and make holds just about sturdy enough to stand on.

(They’d learned just how sturdy they needed to be about an hour ago, when Owen had nearly fallen on top of her when a hand hold he'd just made gave way under his weight. After that they’d had to spend the next fifteen minutes on a ledge, clinging to each other until the trembling stopped and they could carry on climbing.)

It had been three hours now, and Tosh judged they were about halfway to the surface.

She gritted her teeth, working at the edge of another panel; the metal was sharp and unyielding, and she’d cut herself many times already doing this. A hundred small cuts on her palms, and a bigger gash on the ball of her thumb where she’d caught it on a jagged edge of impact-sheared metal early on.

“Got it!” she yelled down at Owen.

“Good. Up to the next one, then.”

Tosh smiled grimly, pulling herself up, knowing Owen was following. She began to work at the next panel, levering the metal with all her strength. “When this... _ow_... when this is all over, I should fix this. People could break in this way, it’s – _ah!_ – a bit of a security loophole.”

“Tosh, if they’re willing to go to this much fucking effort, they deserve to get in” she heard Owen say. “Maybe we should bloody hire them.”

“Let’s run it past Jack when we see him again” she said, with a slight smile.

Owen was silent for just a moment. “Tosh? Do you... do you think Jack–”

“He’ll be fine” interrupted Tosh. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, ‘course, but...” he trailed off into silence. “What about the others?”

“It sounded like Jack was trying to get Gwen and Ianto out” she said. “Let’s hope he managed it. Gray... had been out all day.” She made a face as she leaned into the existing footholds, thinking of the police report she’d seen; she hadn’t told any of the others about it, only Jack. Especially not Owen; she knew that sometimes, for all they’d got used to his presence, Owen still didn’t quite trust Gray.

“Mmm” said Owen. She could hear his frown in his voice, hear him thinking. “Where d’you think it came from, though? The bomb, I mean. We’ve made plenty of enemies over the years, but...”

“No idea” said Tosh, grimly. She forced her strength into the metal panel, bending it over into another decent handhold and beginning to pull herself up. “But as soon as we get to the surface, we’re going to find out.”

* * *

Hours later, Tosh hauled herself up out of the exposed vent, the steel grating clattering to the concrete with a sound that made her wince. It was dark now, and the orange sodium glow of a streetlight above was bright enough to hurt her eyes as she clambered out and practically collapsed onto the discrete little concrete landing stage that led to the row of grilles.

They had come out a long way around the bay, she realised, looking back over her shoulder at the water as she leaned forward and offered Owen her hand. The water was very dark, but in the distance she could see a few glimmering lights that marked Flat Holm island. Tosh thought wildly for a moment that maybe they could go there; Gwen had told her about the place after the missing persons investigation, had told her that the staff there answered to Jack. Maybe they’d be able to help.

But no, she realised a moment later; they had to find the others first. They could be in danger.

“Ugh.” Owen brushed dust off his jeans, leaning forward and catching his breath. “Let’s never, ever do that again, m’kay?”

“That’s the plan” said Tosh, leaning beside him against the wall, breathing hard. Her hands felt raw, the skin cut and shredded, blisters beginning to form on her fingers. She raised her palm, frowning at the blood glinting there in the dim light.

Owen peered over at her hands. “Now that looks like it’s just _asking_ to get infected. If we get some supplies, I can clean – _a_ _h_ _h!_ ”

“Owen!” screamed Tosh, as the sound of gunfire exploded towards them over the water. She grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the steps up to the waterfront; half an instant later, more gunshots struck sparks off the metal grating they’d just been leaning against.

“Where are they?” shouted Owen, staring around wildly. “On the water?”

“Must be.” Hiding on a boat, out in the darkness... someone must have been lying in wait for them to appear. Tosh didn’t like the implications of that at all. But there was no time to think about that now. “Run!”

They ran together, hand in hand. She heard Owen scream, felt him falter for a moment, but she tugged him on, taking the stairs three at a time until they were running along the waterfront, weaving between bollards and lampposts.

“T-Tosh – _ah–_ ”

She tugged on his hand, gritting her teeth. In the harsh orange streetlight, she saw in a flash of horror that his other hand was covered in blood. His face was a mask of pain, drawn and afraid, but she pulled him onward, tears in her eyes as more sniper fire came.

It was coming from the buildings on the shore now rather than the boat across the water, she realised through her panic. Fear coiled up inside her; just how big was this hunt for them?

“In there!” she said, pulling Owen into a narrow alley. A few bullets hit a car on the corner as they ducked behind some bins, setting the alarm to ringing, but it was sheltered from the main street at least. There was a loading bay set into the back of one of the shops, recessed and reassuringly dark. She pulled Owen into it, hearing him gasp, bent over almost double as he stared down at himself.

“Are you okay?”

“They...shot me, in the leg” he said, through gritted teeth. “I... think it missed the bone, but – oh, bloody fucking _hell_ , aaahh–”

“Oh my god...” she held up her phone, casting a pallid light down on the blood on Owen’s thigh, soaking into his jeans.

“D-don’t panic” said Owen, face white as paper, his fingers clutching her arm hard enough to bruise. “I need you t-to... to help me stop the bleeding – _ah!_ – okay? J-just like I did for you that time, yeah?”  
Tosh gritted her teeth, tears flowing down her face already. “I don’t know if – _Owen!_ ” her eyes widened, as she saw a figure loom into the lane behind him, hearing gunfire and already drawing her own gun. She bared her teeth as she fired, sending the figure reeling back with a yelp. She didn’t wait to see whether her bullet had met its target or not, but grabbed him by the wrist. “We’re going to have to run. Can you do that?”

“Hhhh….” Owen breathed out in fast puffs of air, obviously trying to steady himself, bloody hand pressed to his leg. “I’m losing quite a bit of blood here, Tosh... not a main artery or anything, but...” he gestured, laughing slightly hysterically. “You know.”

“Well, let’s make it quick then.” And without waiting for his reply she yanked his arm, pulling him along the alleyway just as she heard the sounds of running footsteps, voices behind them. She pushed over a plastic bin, then a haphazard pile of empty crates as they ran past. In her peripheral vision she saw Owen draw his gun, heard him fire over his shoulder, but she didn’t look back. If she looked back she’d lose her nerve she knew, but now the adrenaline was filling her with single-minded purpose, pulling Owen on through the orange and black of the night.

* * *

After what seemed like hours – but had probably been much less – they had made it to the docks, slipping into the shadow of an old warehouse. It only took Tosh a few minutes to guess the access code; the wear on the keypad was a dead giveaway if you knew what you were looking for, and she did. Once she opened the door she leaned forward, winded; since she’d worked for Torchwood, she’d long got used to a lot of running, but after their climb before she was beyond exhausted. A moment later though, she was alert again with a stab of fear as Owen stumbled through the door after her, practically collapsing against the closed door with a gasp of pain.

“Owen!” Tosh slapped on the light switch, the sudden blinding flicker of fluorescent tube lighting making them both flinch slightly, like nocturnal animals caught in the glare of headlights. But she barely paid it any mind as she dropped to one knee at his side, peering down in horror. The right leg of his jeans was soaked with blood; it seemed to be coming from his upper thigh, the stain spreading now all the way down. Owen ripped open the tear in the side of his jeans so it was larger, inspecting the wound. “Right” he said, breathing hard and looking up at her. “Right, right, fuck, okay. G-good news...” he winced, gathering up his sleeve to put pressure on the place, “the bullet just grazed me, can’t be more than a centimeter or two deep. Came out – bloody fuck that _hurts_ – came out the other side. Bad news… the bullet isn’t plugging the wound so – ah, _shit_ – that means it’ll bleed a _lot_.”

Tosh nodded; she could see that just from looking at it. “What can I do?” she said, trying to still the trembling in her hands.

“Help me make a tourniquet” he said. “It... it should have stitches, but... nothing we can do about that right now. We just need to slow the bleeding.”

“My belt...”

But he was shaking his head. “Leather won’t go tight enough. The webbing from – ah – the strap on the toolkit will be easier to tie.”

“Right.” Her fingers trembled, slippery with blood, as she took off the strap from the tool box. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears; they’d both been shot before, and Owen had even come back from the dead once. But both of them were only alive because they’d had access to the Hub. Without that, they were just two scared people in an abandoned warehouse with no medical supplies, hiding from – well, whoever it was that wanted them dead. She swallowed, forcing her brain away from probabilities and chances of survival. “Here, let me...”

“Above the wound, just... there...” he helped her position the strap, feeding it back on itself through the buckle. She could smell blood, the air thick with it, making her hands clumsy and slippery.

“Perfect” said Owen, gritting his teeth. Their heads knocked together just a little, her forehead against his. “Now pull it tight on three… two... one...”

Tosh winced as she pulled it tight and Owen’s strangled scream of pain resounded in the warehouse, echoing amongst the crates. “Tighter!” he managed to grit out, and she had to do it again, wanting to sob or scream herself.

Finally he went silent, and for a moment she was alarmed, before she heard him breathe out with a sound that was half a gasp of pain and half a sob. Immediately, her arms were around him. “Owen...”

He pressed his face into her hair, bringing one hand up to clutch her arm. “Thanks, Tosh. You did good.” He inspected the wound. “Okay, it’s bleeding less now. That’s probably all we can do for the moment.”

She stroked his hair for a moment longer, pulling back. “What _do_ we do now, then?”

His face crumpled; she couldn’t tell if it was the pain, or what he was about to say. “What about the others? Can we contact them?”

“About that...” said Tosh. “We should get rid of our phones. Comms too: whoever’s hunting us will be able to monitor the network. It’s too dangerous to try to contact the others that way.”

“Can you secure it?”

She sighed. “If I had time, and access to the Hub, then maybe–”

“Time locks?”

She shook her head. “I can’t connect to the Hub's systems then. You can’t send a signal from inside a time bubble, because outside, time effectively doesn’t exist. There’s nothing to send _to_.”

He nodded grimly. “Let’s keep our heads down for a bit then. I... I don’t know if I could do any more running right now.”

“We need to get you some proper medical–”

“Stop.” He cut her off. “Any other way to contact the others securely?”

“I don’t know... oh!” suddenly, she was animated. “Oh, there is something! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

She saw the ghost of a tired smile appear on Owen’s pale face. “Knew it.”

“We can’t use the usual network” she said, thinking it through as she spoke. “But luckily...” she held up her hand, showing him the purple ring on her finger, “I’ve got this.” She took the ring off and held it up for him to see. “Fifty-first century transmitter. The frequency spectrum is different to those in common use now; no one will be tuned into it. It’ll just filter through as noise,” she smiled, “ _unless,_ of course, someone else is using fifty-first century tech. Which, as far as I know, is only in use in two places on earth right now… one is – _was_ – the receiver at the Hub.” She bit her lip, trying to put the thought of all that technology they could have had access to – years of her own work, decades of Jack’s, a thousand things that could help them – from her mind. “The other is...”

“...Jack’s wrist strap!” finished Owen, with a look of dawning understanding.

She nodded. “If he’s – if he got out of the explosion, and he has it on him, then he’ll be able to pick up our signal.” She frowned; she’s been about to say _if he’s alive_ , but that, she thought, was one of the few certainties right now. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that Jack was alive and trapped under tonnes and tonnes of rubble, for who knew how long–

“Well, let’s hurry up and do it then” said Owen, interrupting her grim imaginings. “The sooner we find the others the better.”

“It’s not certain that–”

“Do it anyway.”

Quickly she programmed in the message, turning the purple stone ninety degrees to the right and clicking it back into place. “There” she said, replacing the ring on her finger. “I’ve set it to continuously broadcast, like a beacon. If Jack’s... able to pick up the signal, he’ll be able to track us.”

Owen nodded, breathing out. “And now we wait” he said, dropping his head down onto his chest.

“And now we wait” she agreed. She put her arm around him, sinking down the wall beside him on his good side with a sigh. At last she looked at him closely; he was alarmingly pale, with shadows under his red-rimmed eyes and blood all over him. She doubted she was much better, but still. “You look terrible” she said, running her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

He laughed, softly, bitterly. “I don’t feel so great, either.”

“Any idea of where we can get you some help?”

He shook his head, and when she looked over and saw his eyes, she nearly shrank back. He shrugged, voice hollow. “I don’t know. We’ve got _nothing_ , Tosh. No painkillers, no dressings or antibiotics, no nanogenes to magically save the day. No alien miracle cures… what if they get you next, hmm? Then what'll I do?”

“They won’t–”

“But what if they _do?_ I’ve got nothing, Tosh. Bloody _nothing!_ ”

She gritted her teeth. “Maybe. Maybe we don’t have all those things. But I wouldn’t call it nothing. Because I’ll tell you what we do have.”

“What?”

She squeezed his shoulder. “A _really_ damn good doctor.”

He stared at her for a moment, then smiled wanly. “I guess...”

“And furthermore” she said, stroking his cheek as an idea came to her, “that doctor isn’t working alone.”

“I do have a genius on my side” he said, smiling a little wider, leaning his head against hers on his shoulder. “Could be useful.”

“Quite right too” she said. “And I think... if you can manage to walk a bit... I’m starting to come up with a genius plan right now. ...Or as genius as I can manage under the circumstances, at least.”

He sighed, deeply. “Help me get up” he said, “and you can tell me on the way.”

She climbed to her feet, offering him her arms. “Remember that doctor you told me about? The one Ianto retconned today – I mean, yesterday?” Outside the high window, Tosh could see the beginnings of the pale light of dawn beginning to creep over the city.

“Yeah? What about him?”

“We’re going to pay him a little visit.”

* * *

It was seven in the morning, and Rupesh Patanjali was still asleep. Normally he’d already be awake by this time of course; but normally he wouldn’t be sleeping on a bench in the locker room, face pressed between the slats.

He stirred, eyes flickering open as people drifted around him, distant voices echoing and bringing him to full awareness. A moment later he jerked into full wakefulness, sitting up in alarm and disorientation; for a few seconds he had no idea where he was or how he’d come to be there.

“Hah. Late one last night?” said a voice from somewhere above him. “Though you’d’ve left that behind when you graduated. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“Uhhh...” he found himself making incoherent sounds, rubbing the sides of his head. He sort of recognised the voice, some part of it filtering down into his brain, but turning around to look and to talk back felt like too much effort right now. It did feel like he was hungover, but he couldn’t remember drinking... in fact, he couldn’t remember how he’d got here at all. He squinted down at his scrubs; clearly he’d fallen asleep in them. This was looking worse by the moment.

Especially since, he remembered, he was supposed to meet with Johnson today to discuss the Torchwood case. He frowned; he hadn’t been looking forward to that anyway – that woman scared him at the best of times – but this made the prospect even less inviting.

 _Torchwood_. He should check his notes, he thought. Finally, after all this time, he’d been getting somewhere with them, _but then_ …

Rupesh frowned. He was sure there was an end to that sentence, some development that had come of his long-planned attempts to infiltrate Torchwood on her orders. Very recently, in fact. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

And then he heard a click close to his left ear, and felt something cold and metallic pressed against his temple. “Doctor Rupesh Patanjali, isn’t it?” said that voice again; now he could see that it belonged to the man who was pointing a gun at his head. Somewhat unnervingly, under his labcoat Rupesh could see blood dripping down one of his legs, which was bound with an improvised tourniquet. Rupesh was momentarily struck by a vague sense of familiarity about the man’s features, but on balance, that wasn’t his main concern right now.

He tensed, hands balling into fists. “What do you want?”

“Easy, easy.” The man smiled, which was almost the most unnerving thing yet. “I’m Doctor Harper, and this is Doctor Sato.” He gestured at the woman standing behind him, who was also wearing a lab coat and carrying what looked like a heavy case of some sort. “We understand you’ve been investigating a suspected conspiracy. Bodies going missing?”

“I...” he licked his lips, nervous. That was just the cover; he hadn’t told anyone about yet, though if Torchwood took the bait like he’d hoped… he frowned. “Are you with Johnson? Did she send you?”

Doctor Harper raised his eyebrows just a fraction. “Yeah” he said. “Yeah she did.”

“Then there’s no need for this” said Rupesh, eyes going to the gun. “I told her, I’d have my way into Torchwood by tomorrow. It just needs a bit of extra work, that’s all.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. I nearly had them, but I–” he clutched his head, trying to think straight.

The woman nudged the man, whispering something in his ear.

The man glared down at Rupesh. “Right. Here’s what’s gonna happen now. You’re gonna do a few things for me, okay? You can think about Torchwood in the meantime. Better think hard, or it won’t just be a bullet through your head. And not only that... Doctor Sato here laughs in the face of top secret designations, and if you don’t cooperate, everyone will know what you’ve been complicit in.”

“No!” Rupesh blurted. He raised his hands, breathing fast. “Okay, okay, I’ll... I’ll do what you say. What do you want?”

“We want you to get us into the supply cupboard, without appearing on the hospital CCTV. Bet you’re good at that, hmm? Sneaking around. We’ll need sutures, gauze, first aid supplies. Antibiotics. Painkillers. All packed up for travel.”

He blinked. “That’s it?” He’d been expecting something much more.

“We’ll need everything you found out about Torchwood” put in Doctor Sato. “Also, your laptop and charger.”

Doctor Harper pressed the gun a little closer to his temple. “You heard her.”

“Y-yeah” he said, nodding quickly. “Of course. It’s all on the laptop. I’ll go get it.”

It didn’t take him long to get the laptop and take them to the storage room; he felt a little nervous shut in there with them, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Johnson had given him a gun, but it wasn’t much use in his coat pocket back in the locker room. As Doctor Harper packed a bag, Rupesh found himself wondering why he’d ever got himself into all this in the first place.

Finally the two of them were done, turning to face him.

“Well” said Doctor Sato, pulling on a rucksack. “Thanks for all your help. Time to say goodbye now.”

Rupesh backed away, coming up against the closed door of the store room. “Wait… who are you people…?”

Doctor Harper stepped forward. “ _Torchwood_.”

Rupesh had just enough time to be aware of the butt of the pistol coming up, and blinding pain as it connected with his temple, before all went black.

* * *

“You didn’t have to be so dramatic about it” Tosh hissed, as they hurried down a back alley away from the hospital. “He would have cooperated with us. He was scared.”

Owen waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll have a moderate concussion, at worst. And he’s in a bloody hospital of all places. He’ll be fine.”

“What about whoever he was working for? Won’t they come for him–”

“He was going to sell us out, Tosh! He’s probably part of all this! We already gave him better than he deserves” growled Owen. He scowled, clenching his fists in frustration. “I can’t _believe_ the whole bodies-going-missing thing was a set-up. I should’ve bloody _seen_ it! But there we went, just blundering in, waving our alien technology around–”

“You weren’t to know” said Tosh gently. “And remember what he said? He didn’t succeed in what he was trying to do. And to be fair, you did successfully retcon him after.”

“Yeah” said Owen, frowning. “But this means someone’s been targeting us, for a lot longer than we thought. That worries me.”

Tosh frowned. “Yeah” she said. “Me too.” She squeezed his arm. “Come on, let’s find somewhere safe to see to your wound. I can check the laptop in the meantime.”

* * *

“There we go” said Owen, cutting off the excess thread and inspecting the stitches. “That should hold for now. Pretty good job at an odd angle, if I do say so myself.”

“Are the painkillers helping?” asked Tosh, looking up from the laptop as Owen began to sort through gauze strips, ready to dress the wound.

“Just about” he said, wincing. “Not great when you’re used to the industrial strength kind – or rather, alien strength kind – but a damn sight better than nothing.”

She nodded, bringing the laptop and sitting down beside him as he cut the dressing to the right size. “See? Told you things were looking up.”

“Now that might be getting a bit ahead of ourselves” said Owen, frowning over at her screen. “What’ve you been up to on there?”

“Looking at our doctor friend’s notes on Torchwood.” She half laughed. “He had basically nothing on us. It’s quite a fun read if you’ve got a bit of spare time.”

“Maybe later” said Owen. “Anything else?”

“Hacking into recent arrest records, to try to find some mention of the others” she said.

“And?”

She shook her head. “The explosion was on the news… terrorist bomb blast, they’re saying. But no, nothing.”

“Is that a good sign?”

Tosh made a face. “If they haven’t been arrested, it means one of three things, as far as I can see.” She counted on her fingers. “One, that they’re dead.”

“Well, we know that doesn’t apply to Jack” said Owen, but Tosh could see him freeze a little as she said the words, his hands going still on the dressing before returning to work. “Let’s assume they’re alive. What are the other possibilities?”

“Number two. They’re on the run, like us.”

“I like the sound of that one” said Owen. “Three?”

“They've been captured, and it’s been covered up. Or... three point one I suppose, the people who are hunting them operate outside of the police.”

“Well, to be fair, so do we” said Owen. He frowned, finishing dressing his wound and beginning to clean his hands and his equipment. “What’s the link to the police, though? Do you have any lead on these people? Surely it’s more likely it’s just some random person we’ve pissed off over the years?”

“Oh! Of course, I got ahead of myself” said Tosh. “I managed to get into the Home Office records. Top secret of course, but easy enough. In principle, at least.”

Owen blinked. “And?”

She compressed her lips. “There’s an order out to have Jack killed.”

Owen opened his mouth and closed it again. “Why?” He reached out to her, firmly. “Hands. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about those cuts that need cleaning.”

“Thanks.” She let him take her hands in his, wincing at the sting as he began to dab at her cuts and blisters. “It cross references a file I haven’t been able to get into yet. I’m working on cracking the security keys to decrypt it as we speak, running the algorithm on what’s left of the Hub’s processors. But a lot of our computing resources were destroyed, so it’s going to take some time.”

Owen nodded, gently cleaning the long cut on the ball of her thumb with something that burned; she’d almost forgotten the wound was there. “What’s the file?”

She frowned. “It’s a case from the sixties. Wiped from the records, even ours, but it seems Torchwood was involved. Or at least, Jack was. Codenamed file four-five-six.”

“Right.” Owen nodded, unrolling some more gauze. “Well, can you carry on while we keep moving?”

She nodded, closing the laptop. “Just what I was about to suggest, if you’re okay to walk. The decryption program will run in the background.”

“Let me finish this first.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

Owen worked for a while, finishing the dressings on her palms and packing away his supplies neatly. Then he dragged himself to his feet, swaying a little but offering her a hand. The blood had dried on him now, and he still looked a mess, but a little of the hopelessness was gone from him. “Coming?”

She took his bandaged hand in her own, and they walked out of the warehouse.

“Wait” he asked, as soon as they were outside. “Where are we actually going?”

She frowned. “I think... we should go back to the Hub” she said. She swallowed. Saying it like that it sounded like this was a regular mission, as though they’d be returning to the place that had become like a home these last years. More than a home, a haven. “Look at who’s picking over the ruins. That should tell us more about what we’re up against.”

“That’s risky” said Owen.

“Yeah” she said, meeting his eye. “But I don’t think we’ve got much choice here.”

He sighed. “Well, lead on then.”

* * *

“I can’t see much from here” said Owen, peering over the parapet of the office building roof on which they were standing. “Can we get closer? Those buildings over there would have a much better view.”

“Best to stay where we are” said Tosh. “This is already a risk, even though it’s a calculated one. Any closer, and we’d have to pass through the field of view of that CCTV camera...” she pointed, “...and then that one over there.”

“Couldn’t you... I dunno, reprogram them? Turn them off?”

“Too dangerous” she said. “We don’t know who’s watching that feed right now, just waiting for us to come back.”

“Cheery thought.” Owen grimaced, then squinted down at the ruins. “What’re those uniforms? That’s not UNIT, is it?”

“No” said Tosh, biting her lip. “It’s not.”

“Tosh! Look!” Owen broke into her anxious reverie, patting her arm. “What’s that?”

She squinted. “Is that...”

“That’s a stretcher” said Owen. “There’s something on it, being carried...”

“Is it a body?”

“...Presumably. Parts of one, anyway.”

“It could be one of the bodies from the mortuary...” Tosh squinted.

“Yeah” said Owen, darkly. “Or it could not be.”

“Shit! We need to get closer!” said Tosh.

“What’d I tell you...”

She scanned the roof tops on the far side, wondering if cutting across the ground was worth the risk for a better view.

And that was when she saw it; closer to them than the ruins of the Hub, on the top of a building a little way off. Though the figure was only a silhouette, and clearly keeping low enough that she could only see their head and shoulders against the pale sky, she felt a flash of recognition, followed by hope. “Owen! Look!” said Tosh, pointing.

He squinted. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Up there!”

He followed her pointing finger. “Oh...”

“That’s Ianto!” she said, “...isn’t it? I’m sure it is!”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “Think so” he said. As they watched, the man’s head rose a bit higher, peering gingerly over the parapet, and Tosh saw that the hunkered-down figure was definitely Ianto. Owen gritted his teeth. “What the hell is he doing? He’s right out in the open, and so close to–”

“Probably exactly what we’re doing” said Tosh, feeling a wash of sympathy, and selfish gratitude that she had Owen with her. She couldn’t imagine having to go through this all alone. “Looking for survivors. Or… otherwise.”

Owen nodded. “Us. Gwen. Jack.” He scoffed. “Bloody _hell,_ that man has no sense of self-preservation. The snipers from last night would have a field day.”

“Only if they spotted him.”

“ _We_ spotted him” grumbled Owen. There was little real anger in his voice though, only weary concern.

Tosh patted his arm. “Save it to tell Ianto” she said. “Let’s follow him, while we can. This’ll be easier when there are more of us together.”

A few hours later however, it was becoming increasingly clear that tracking down Ianto was easier said than done. Like them he’d clearly discarded his phone, earpiece, and anything else trackable. He’d also apparently been avoiding anywhere covered by CCTV; Tosh couldn’t help but feel a little proud, but it was mostly subsumed by her frustration.

She sat down next to Owen on a park bench, passing him a paper bag. “Here” she said. “Steak bake. Get some iron in you, after all that blood loss.”

“...I can’t speak for the nutritional value or actual meat content of anything from Greggs–”

She pushed it into his hands anyway and sat down beside him, putting down two polystyrene cups of tea on the bench between. “Trace amounts, then... better than nothing. And you need your strength. We both do.”

“Oh my god, Tosh.” He opened the bag and inhaled the smell, his whole expression changing. “You’re fucking incredible.”

Tosh opened her own bag, taking a too-hot bite of her chicken and mushroom pasty. “Enjoy it while it lasts... I spent the last of my pocket change on this” she said, frowning. “I didn’t try my card, but I think it’s a fair guess to say they’ll have frozen our accounts. Not worth the risk, going to a cash machine.”

He nodded, mouth full. “Yeah” he said. “...Can’t you hack those things?”

She sighed. “If I had time, yes, probably. I could do a lot of things. But let’s prioritise finding the others, yeah?”

“Yeah” he said, frowning. “Not that there’s much to go on. Any other leads?”

“Nothing on Gwen, though the working theory is that Rhys will be with her. Nothing on Jack, or Gray… one sighting of Ianto by the Hub...” she checked her watch, “about two and a half hours ago.”

Owen made a noise of frustration. “Bloody Ianto, he was _right_ there! I can’t believe we lost him. He could be anywhere by now! He might not even be in Cardiff anymore.”

She frowned, staring off across the park; nothing looked out of the ordinary. In fact, life seemed to be going on much the same as usual. A man on the bench opposite them was feeding pigeons. There were school children here, carrying stapled paper worksheets and pencils; some kind of trip or scavenger hunt maybe. There were several people walking their dogs, some suit-wearing office workers on their lunch breaks. It was all so jarringly _normal_ , in comparison to the blood-soaked chaos of the last ten hours. “...Maybe we should try a smarter approach than just trying to find him on CCTV while avoiding it ourselves” said Tosh, frowning. “Where would he go?”

Owen smiled wryly. “Think like Ianto, you mean?”

She nodded. “Basically, yeah. Maybe he’s gone to his mum’s place?”

“His mum just got out of hospital” said Owen. “I can’t see Ianto bringing this to her door, not now.”

“Someone else, then” said Tosh. Her eyes widened. “Oh! Damn it Owen, I’ve been an idiot, all this time!”

“Wait, why–”

“His sister! Ianto’s sister knows about Torchwood!” She wrapped up the rest of her pasty, wiping her fingers on her jeans and taking out her PDA, “...and I can even get her address from the next-of-kin details in Ianto’s file…” she typed furiously, waiting for the file to load. “There. What d’you say we pay Rhiannon Davies a visit?”

Owen flicked a crumb of pastry off his knee, sending several pigeons fluttering for it. “Well, it’s more of a plan than we had before, that’s for sure.”

“Good. Let’s do it then.”

But as they stood up, Tosh walked into one of the schoolgirls, who had stopped right in front of her.

“Oh, sorry–” she began. And then she looked up to see a gaggle of children in front of her, all frozen in place.

“ _We are coming tomorrow. We are coming tomorrow. We are coming tomorrow_.”

“Tosh!” said Owen, kneeling down in front of the girl. “It’s happening again...”

She nodded. She hadn’t witnessed it herself before, but the videos she'd seen didn’t do any justice to how unnerving it was.

“ _We are coming tomorrow. We are coming tomorrow_.”

“Oi, mate, what’re you doing?” a man was shouting at Owen. “Get away from her!”

“It’s alright, I’m a doctor, I–”

“Like hell you are. You’re all covered in blood! I should phone the police on you!”

“ _We are coming tomorrow_.”

“Owen, leave it!” Tosh shouted, tearing her eyes away. “Let’s go.” But Owen was just staring, wide-eyed, as though he couldn’t look away.

“ _We are coming tomorrow_.”

And just like that it was over, the children starting to run around again as though nothing had happened.

It was all Tosh could do not to shudder.

“This thing with the kids” Owen said, as they hurried to the park gates, heads down, “it’s got to be related, hasn’t it? I mean, this is what we were investigating when they blew us up. Seems an awful coincidence.”

“...We’ve investigated a lot of things. And coincidences happen every day” said Tosh.

Owen scrutinised her face. “You don’t really believe it’s unrelated.”

She bit her lip, uneasy. “I _want_ to believe it’s unrelated” she said. “If it’s all connected, then... well. This is all a lot bigger than we planned for.”

“...Guess we’ll find out tomorrow, one way or the other” said Owen, frowning as he watched a teacher try to gather the children together, open fear in her eyes. His eye caught Tosh’s; he must have seen something in her face she thought, because his expression softened a little. “...Sorry.”

Tosh gritted her teeth. “Come on” she said. “Let’s go see Ianto’s sister. We can figure it out on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, initially I had planned that this arc would be organised roughly along the lines of "one chapter = one day = one CoE episode". But given that these chapters are turning out longer than I had anticipated I'm going to have to. Not Do That, at the risk of weirdly long chapters in some places/other story structure problems. But please expect the rest of Day Two soon, since I've already written some of it! And in the meantime, hope you're enjoying this!!!


	15. Chapter 15

Ianto sat in the back seat of the car as Rhys started the engine. He let out the breath he hadn’t quite realised he’d been holding for hours as Jack got in through the other door. Finally, Gwen got in the passenger seat, and they were off.

As Rhys drove, Ianto felt the tiredness from a missed night of sleep and more than twenty-four hours of constant fear and running starting to catch up with him. Nevertheless, he still couldn’t quite relax. Not after all that; he felt the dust of the quarry on his skin, leftover adrenaline leaving him twitchy and restless.

Beside him on the seat, his fingers dug into the upholstery.

He was also very aware that Jack was sitting just a seat away from him, wearing only a jacket with nothing underneath.

Ianto was doing his best not to think too hard about that – about how in the quarry he had wanted so much to just pull Jack into his arms and never let go, pull him into a hard, bruising kiss with fingers twisted through Jack’s concrete-dusted hair, inopportune moment or not – when the touch of Jack’s hand on the back of his on the seat between them startled him.

“Ianto.”

He blinked a few times, turning to look at Jack. He seemed to be closer to his normal self now; the way he’d looked when Ianto had got him out of the concrete, what he must have been through… Ianto swallowed, trying not to think about that either right now. He had a rapidly growing list of things he was trying not to think about, it seemed. “Hmm?”

Gwen turned around in the front seat. “I said, have you had any luck with trying to contact the others? We’ve got nothing, so far.”

Ianto frowned. “I’ve been a bit busy up to this point.”

“Yeah, give him a moment” said Rhys, from the front seat. “Ianto, you saved our bacon back there, mate. That lady would’ve locked us away, or worse. So, thanks.”

He nodded at Rhys in the rear-view mirror, still tense. “Let’s just get to London. It’ll be easier to find a way to get in touch with the others there.”

Jack nodded. His hand hadn’t moved from where it was resting on top of Ianto’s on the seat, a warm point of contact. Grounding him. Grounding them both maybe, Ianto thought. “I agree” said Jack, smiling a little wider. “Tosh’ll figure something out. Hey, who knows, maybe they’ll already be waiting for us there.”

* * *

“Give it back! I wanna try!”

“No, you’ll just break it again!”

Mica glared, giving David a kick in the shins across the sofa as he held the controller out of her reach. “Give it back or I’m telling mum!”

“I’ll tell her you kicked me. Anyway, I’m _fixing_ it!”

“It’s not _that_ that got broken, stupid.” She pointed at the TV screen, which had started showing only grey static a few minutes ago. “It’s _that_!”

David frowned at her. “It’s you that broke it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yeah you–” David stopped talking, staring at the screen. “Look!”

Mica looked. The screen had gone black and there were big, bold white letters across it; it looked a bit like Teletext, that her Nan liked to do the quizzes off.

David squinted, reading the scrolling text aloud. “...This... is… a… message… from...” he squished up his face, “...Torchwood... for... Ianto... Jones… or… Rhiannon… Davies. Please... type... yes... if... you... are... reck – ress...ee-ving... um, _receiving_ … this.” And then, a flashing black square in a white rectangular box. David looked at Mica. “Torchwood? What’s a Torchwood?”

But Mica was bouncing up and down on the sofa in excitement. “Torchwood!” she said, grinning. “Remember? Uncle Ianto’s place.” When David looked even more perplexed, she punched him in the arm. “Mum! Mum!” she screamed, jumping to her feet, running over and sticking her head up the stairs. “Message from Torchwood!”

* * *

Rhiannon sat on the sofa and stared at the screen, reassured by the weight of Johnny’s hand on her shoulder. It was just the two of them here; however much David and Mica had protested, she’d insisted they go upstairs.

The cursor in the white text box was still blinking, waiting for her to type her answer.

She looked up at Johnny, thinking back to earlier that day; a card secretly delivered, a covert meeting on a park bench. “It could be Ianto” she said, thinking out loud. “If it’s him, we should answer it.”

“Mica said the message was for Ianto _or_ you.”

“You’re right.” She frowned. “Anyway, if it _is_ Ianto, why didn’t he contact us like this before?”

“He didn’t have your laptop then” pointed out Johnny. “Anyway, might not be him but someone he works with. It just says Torchwood.”

Rhiannon wasn’t sure if she liked this possibility any better; if it was strangers, she wished they’d leave her alone. But if they had news about Ianto, she couldn’t let this pass. “What if it’s one of the people who’re chasing him, and they're only pretending to be Torchwood?” her hands rested on the remote control buttons, hesitating as the cursor blinked.

“Then there’s not much to be done about it by not answering, I reckon. ‘Cause they already know who we are, see? Ignoring ‘em isn’t gonna help.”

“Comforting thought.” She frowned, took a deep breath. She reached up and squeezed Johnny’s hand for a moment, then, before she could change her mind, typed _YES_ in the box.

Immediately, the screen went all black again, and more text began to scroll.

**_IANTO IS THAT YOU?_ **

_NO_ , she typed, second guessing her decision a moment later; she didn’t know what would be best. But it was too late, as more text appeared.

**_IS THIS RHIANNON?_ **

She hesitated – slightly disturbed to see her own name – just for a moment, before typing _YES_.

**_THANK YOU_ _FOR ANSWERING_ _. WE ARE OUTSIDE IN THE LANE OUT OF VIEW OF THE_ _AGENTS_ _WATCHING_ _YOUR_ _HOUSE. GO TO THE_ _BACK_ _WINDOW AND LOOK. THERE ARE TWO OF US_.**

Rhiannon exchanged a glance with Johnny. Then she got up and went to the back window, parting the curtains just a little. Sure enough, there were two people there.

“Johnny” she said. “Come look. Out there.”

“What is it? More blokes in cars watching us? Want me to get the boys and–”

“No, no, just look” said Rhiannon, pointing out the window. He sighed, but peered over her shoulder.

“See them?”

“Them two leaning against the lamp post?”

She nodded, squinting out at the man and the woman milling about between the lamp post and a broken-down fence across the lane. The man had his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, looking all around as though keeping guard. The woman was typing something on what looked like a large phone of some sort, her head down. It was hard to tell much more from this distance.

“They’re not the ones in the car from before, at least” said Johnny.

“No. I’ve never seen them before, have you? ...Wait." She paused; the man did look a little familiar, but for the moment she couldn't quite place him. 

“Not from the estate, that’s for sure.”

She frowned, looking harder. “Looks like they’ve taken a right beating.” Immediately she thought of Ianto as she’d last seen him; nervous and cagey, his suit covered in dust, face bloody with fresh bruises starting to show. These two looked even worse, and they had some of the same restless caution to them; they kept staring around as though the very touch of the light was dangerous, not looking directly at the house.

“Blimey” said Johnny. “Boy looks like he’s been knifed, I reckon. Shot, even. See that? Blood all down one side.”

Rhiannon grimaced. “We should keep them away from where David and Mica can see.”

Johnny nodded. “I’ll go out and deal with ‘em. You stay here.”

“What?” she frowned. “Don’t be stupid, it should be me.”

Before Johnny could reply, the woman raised her head, turning around to glance at the window. She gave Rhiannon a small smile and an even smaller wave – barely more than a raised hand – before turning away, starting to type again.

Rhiannon went back to the sofa, Johnny sitting down beside her just in time to see more text begin to scroll.

**_WE UNDERSTAND THAT YOU HAVE NO REASON TO BELIEVE US. AND WE’RE SORRY TO ASK THIS OF YOU. BUT WE NEED YOUR HELP. TYPE YES IF YOU ARE_ _STILL_ _RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE_.**

Rhiannon sighed, and typed _YES_ into the box.

_**WE NEED A PLACE TO MEET. SOMEWHERE SAFE. THERE ARE PEOPLE FOLLOWING US, AND WE DON’T WANT TO ENDANGER YOU OR YOUR FAMILY. BUT SOMEWHERE PUBLIC. THIS IS FOR YOUR PEACE OF MIND, SO YOU KNOW WE DON’T MEAN YOU ANY HARM. CAN YOU SUGGEST A PLACE?** _

Rhiannon stayed still, as the cursor blinked. She wished Ianto had never dragged her into this.

**_PLEASE TYPE IN THE BOX_ _IF YOU ARE STILL RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE._**

She looked at Johnny. “What should I do?”

He shook his head silently, clearly as much at a loss as she was. “I don’t know” he said. “What d’you want to do?”

Rhiannon opened her mouth, closed it again. The box blinked. New text flashed up on the screen.

**_ARE YOU STILL THERE? PLEASE. WE MIGHT NOT HAVE MUCH TIME_.**

She gave a deep sigh. “I’m gonna smack Ianto for this when I see him again” she muttered. Of course, only after she’d hugged him very tightly, but she didn’t say that.

Instead she thought for a moment, and began to type a location.

* * *

“This is the place she chose?” said Owen, looking around. An ordinary children’s park, swings and a climbing frame, a roundabout. It was a little more deserted than it would usually be – people were keeping their children home now, Owen guessed – but there were still a few kids playing, a gaggle of nervous parents looking around.

Tosh sat down at the picnic bench, patting the seat beside her. “It is.”

“It’s very exposed...”

“Yeah, but we agreed to take that risk, remember? It’s important that we make her feel safe, that she can trust us. I can only imagine what she’s going through right now, with those people watching her house.”

“Yeah.” He perched on the picnic table beside her, facing the other way so that between them they covered all angles. He scanned the area, glancing back when he saw a woman coming over to them. It was too far away to see her face clearly; not that he had much to go on other than a vague memory – he hadn't been paying much attention the day Ianto had dragged him here to check on his nephew, all those months ago – and the idea that Ianto’s sister looked something like him. This woman had a similar colour of hair at least, but he wasn’t close enough to see much of her face. “Tosh! Is that her?”

Tosh looked up. “Yeah” she said, brightening. “I saw her from the window. That’s her.”

“We should–”

But before he could continue, Rhiannon had marched up to them, folding her arms. As her jacket shifted, Owen noticed she had a kitchen knife shoved through her belt loop. “You two better have a good explanation for all this. What d’you want with me and my family?”

“We want to help” Tosh reassured her, getting up and offering her hand to shake. “I’m Toshiko Sato and this is Doctor Owen Harper."

"We've met..." ventured Owen, but Rhiannon didn't show much acknowledgement beyond a twitch of an eyebrow. He supposed if he was in her position, their brief acquaintance wouldn't really be much grounds for immediate trust either. 

"We work with Ianto" said Tosh. "We’re Torchwood.”

“So you said” said Rhiannon, shaking her hand with obvious reluctance. “What do you know about my brother? Is he okay?”

“That was... kind of what we wanted to ask you about, actually” said Tosh, a little apologetically. “We’re trying to find him, and we thought he might have come here.”

“That’s _it_?” Rhiannon raised an eyebrow at them, looking distinctly unimpressed. Suddenly Owen saw the family resemblance quite acutely. “...Okay. Prove to me you’re who you say you are first.”

Tosh exchanged a glance with Owen.

“Okay... um… I’ve still got my Torchwood ID somewhere, hang on...” he said.

“What I mean is, if you know Ianto so well, tell me some things about him. Go on. And not impersonal stuff, either. Tell me something his friends would know. ...Make that something about his family that I’d know too, because god knows I’ve got no idea of half the stuff that goes on at Torchwood on a daily basis.”

“Uh ...okay. Okay!” said Tosh. “His dad... your dad. He was a master tailor...”

Rhiannon glared at them. “He worked in Debenhams!” she spat. “If Ianto gave you that old shit then you don’t know him at all!”

Tosh exchanged another glance with Owen, looking pained. Already this seemed to be going worse than they’d thought.

Then Owen had a flash of inspiration. “Hengoed” he said, a little softer. “Ianto and you, you used to go there when you were kids... yeah? To visit your Nan.”

Rhiannon’s mouth opened and closed, an odd expression on her face. “...Yeah” she said.

“Lovely place in the Brecon Beacons. Got a pub, a vast array of kebab shops, a mining museum and everything. I’ve been there with Ianto.”

Rhiannon gave him an odd look. “He bloody loved that place when we were children. I always found it damp and boring, but he loved it.”

“Yeah, tell me about it” said Owen, unable to keep from smiling as he remembered.

“Okay” said Rhiannon. “what else?”

“Oh!” said Tosh. “Lisa was the first girlfriend Ianto brought home to meet the family. She was his plus-one at your wedding.” She frowned. “He told me that after...” she tailed off.

“He’s got a scar just below his knee where he had to get surgery as a kid. He broke his leg” said Owen, quickly. “...He said his dad did it.”

Rhiannon sighed. “Well, he always did blame dad” she said. She was clearly softening a little. “What else?”

“Ianto never wanted to tell you about Torchwood” said Tosh quietly. “He only did it because he had no other choice. He never wanted you or your family involved in any of this. But you are, and now things have changed, and we need you. So please understand, we wouldn’t be here if _we_ had any other choice. So, please will you help us?”

Rhiannon gave them a long, long look. Then she sighed, rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. What do you need?”

Tosh breathed out in relief. “We need–”

“Wait” interjected Owen, glancing around. “Are you sure this place is safe?”

Rhiannon shrugged. “It was the place Ianto chose. I thought, that makes it as safe as anywhere.”

Tosh’s eyes widened. “So he _did_ come here, then.”

Rhiannon nodded. “Earlier today” she said, frowning slightly. “Told me there was a bomb, meant for him and the people he worked with. Guess that’s how you got... like that.”

Owen grimaced. “More or less. Did he say where he was going?”

“No, but he took my laptop with him” grumbled Rhiannon. “ _And_ Johnny’s car.”

“If you have the car number plate, I can track it!” said Tosh. Owen recognised the look in her eyes, like her brain was going a mile a minute. “We can follow him!”

“You can _do_ that?”

Tosh grinned. “Very easily.”

“Blimey.” She pulled out her phone, dialed quickly. “Johnny? ...Yeah, yeah it’s okay. They’re fine... yeah. I will. …No, listen, I need the car number plate… yeah I _know_ Ianto has it, that’s the point…” she was quiet for a moment, listening. “...Okay. Okay, thanks, love you. See you soon.” She ended the call, looked up. “It’s PI49 YWN” she said. “Happy?”

“Yeah” said Tosh, who had taken out the laptop while Rhiannon was talking and was already typing furiously. She pressed enter triumphantly. “And... we’ve got tracking!”

Owen came around to look over her shoulder as Rhiannon did the same on her other side. “Where is he?”

“...Heading towards London” she said.

“What’s he want to go there for?” asked Rhiannon.

“Not sure yet” said Tosh. “Owen?”

“The people hunting us” said Owen. “If the official order for... you know. If it came from Whitehall...” He wasn’t sure how much he should say in front of Rhiannon. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because he didn’t know how she’d react to hearing that some of the most powerful people in the country were, apparently, hellbent on having Torchwood and those aiding them wiped out.

“Yeah” said Tosh, looking up to meet his eye. She bit her lip, closing the laptop and tucking it back in her bag. “Thank you, Rhiannon. We’ll leave you alone now. We can’t tell you how much this means.”

She nodded. “Find him, okay? And the others too, if you can. I know there are more of you, and Ianto seemed worried.”

“We’re going to try” said Owen. “Are you going to be alright with–”

“ _Owen!_ ”

He felt Tosh’s hand on his arm at the same moment he heard her gasp his name. Her other hand had gone to her gun as she peered off into the thicker trees and bushes a little way up the slope of the park.

Immediately, Owen was also on guard. “What?” he asked her. “What did you see?”

She frowned. “I thought…”

Rhiannon was peering apprehensively between them. He noticed her hand had gone to the kitchen knife at her belt. “Is someone after you two?”

“Quite a lot of people seem to be, unfortunately” said Owen, grimacing.

“Shut up, Owen” said Tosh levelly, positioning herself so that the two of them were on either side of Rhiannon as they all walked up the hill. She turned to her and gave her best reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing” she said. “But you have to stay here, okay? Stay here, while Owen and I–”

“Tosh!” Owen hissed, seeing the bushes move out of the corner of his eye. “Over there!”

She whirled, drawing her gun and holding it up, guarded. She nodded at him, walking around the other side of the trunk. “You take the other side. I’ll take this one, and – _ah!_ ”

Owen’s eyes went wide as a tall figure loomed towards Tosh, seeming to tower over her. In one hand, there was some kind of long spar of wood, which they were wielding like a cudgel, and–

–And Tosh lowered her gun, looking perplexed. “...Gray?”

The figure lowered their hands, and Owen saw that it was indeed Gray, letting a broken-off wooden plank fall to the ground from one hand, a half-brick from the other. He looked rather the worse for wear – blood dried into the front of his hair which was sticking up in wild curls, lightly dusted with twigs and leaves, his clothes dirty and disarrayed – but it was unmistakably him. Gray was silent for a moment, just staring at Tosh. “You’re... you’re alive!” he managed at last.

“So are you!” said Tosh, putting away her gun to hug Gray. For a moment he tensed as her arms went around him. Then a moment later he relaxed into the hug, bringing a tentative hand up to awkwardly pat Tosh’s back.

It was at this point that Rhiannon gave Owen a questioning look. “Who’s he then? Another one of you lot?”

Owen sighed, holstering his gun. “I assume Ianto told you about Jack, yeah?”

“Yeah, but… wait.” Rhiannon squinted. “ _N_ _o_. That’s _not_ him, is it–”

Owen rolled his eyes. “No, that’s not Jack. That’s his little brother.”

“...Huh. Okay” said Rhiannon, squinting. “Fair enough.”

“Oh!” said Tosh, coming over. “Rhiannon, sorry about that. This is Gray. He’s our boss Jack’s brother. Gray, this is Rhiannon, Ianto’s sister.” Gray seemed rather at a loss, and Rhiannon looked downright bemused by it all.

This, Owen reflected as the two of them shook hands, was not how he’d expected to spend this afternoon. Tosh seemed rather pleased with it all, but they didn’t have the time to spare. “Tosh” he said. “Back to the matter at hand?”

“Oh, right” she said. “Gray, what happened to you? Why are you here?”

Immediately he was back to guarded again, looking all around him. “Is it safe to talk here?”

“Ianto chose this place because he thought they wouldn’t look here” said Rhiannon. “I met him, down there by the playground before he went.”

“Oh!” said Gray, catching them all by surprise. “Ianto. That’s why she led me here!”

Owen blinked. “What? Who did?”

“Myfanwy” explained Gray. “I’ve been following her for most of the day, except for...” he gritted his teeth, faltering for a moment before taking a breath. “I mean, after the blast she flew away. I’ve been trying to keep up with her, hoping she’d lead me to some of you. I guess it was Ianto’s trail she was following.”

Rhiannon blinked. “And who’s Myfanwy, exactly?” she asked Owen, looking blank.

“Oh... pterodactyl.”

“ _What–_?”

“Well, pteranodon, actually. But–”

“The point _is_ ” said Tosh, “you think she was following Ianto?”

“Must’ve been” said Gray. “Out of everyone, it’s him she knows best. She’d be able to track him down.”

“Where did the trail go?”

“All over the city... she even went up a building at one point. Though maybe she just likes perching on roofs.”

“Wait, _we_ saw Ianto standing on a building” said Owen. “We must have just missed you.”

“And then where did she go?” asked Tosh.

Gray shrugged, looking apologetic. “Here” he said. “Only I lost her on the way; she must have flown off somewhere. It took me a while to follow her, because...” he tailed off, pain suddenly showing on his face.

“Because?” prompted Tosh. “Because what?”

Gray frowned. “Nothing.”

“…Right.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, we can worry about all that later. I’m just glad we found you, Gray. Now, we’ll need to steal a car so we can go follow Ianto...”

“ _Steal a car?_ ” said Rhiannon.

At the same moment, Gray said, “ _we?_ ”

“Well, not _all_ of us” said Tosh. “Rhiannon, you should stay here with your family, of course.”

“I meant me” said Gray. “Do you really want me to come with you?” Owen could see the slight frown line deepening on his forehead, as though he was having some sort of silent debate with himself. Then again, it could have just been his normal expression; Owen had never really got the hang of reading what was going on in Gray's head.

“Well, obviously” said Tosh. “Jack’ll want to know you’re safe. And anyway, you’re practically a member of Torchwood now... isn’t that right, Owen?”

He sighed, as she elbowed him subtly in the ribs. “…I guess. A provisional one...”

“Right” said Tosh, smiling gratefully at him. “Also, we need all the help we can get.”

“...Yeah” said Gray. “But... wouldn’t it be easier if it was just you two?”

“We’re not leaving you alone, Gray!” said Tosh. “We need to stick together. That’s the only way we’re going to survive this.”

Gray was definitely avoiding Tosh’s eye, Owen noticed. He kept his face perfectly still, wondering what Gray wasn’t saying.

“...Okay” said Gray at last, breathing out. “I’ll come with you.” He still seemed reluctant, but Tosh was insistent, taking his hands in her much smaller ones between them.

“Glad to hear it” said Tosh firmly, giving his hands a squeeze before letting go.

“Right, well” said Owen. “Now that’s all sorted, shall we go? Unless there’s anyone else hiding in the bushes...”

Tosh smiled wryly. “That’s probably all for now.”

* * *

Tosh had found herself rather growing to like Rhiannon in the time they’d spent with her. But now, she knew, they had to keep moving.

Still, they’d only walked down the hill to the playground again when they heard Rhiannon's voice calling them back.

“ _Wait!_ ”

They all turned back to look at her.

“Before you go, promise me one thing” Rhiannon said, running to catch up again and looking between the three of them. “If my little brother’s in trouble, help him, yeah?” the worry in her eyes tore at Tosh’s heart, her voice cracking a little. “I just want him to come back safe.”

Tosh did her best to smile through the sudden onslaught of memory; she’d had a little brother once, and she knew the look in Rhiannon’s eyes. She forced her voice to stay steady, to sound more certain that she felt. “We promise” she said firmly.

* * *

A scrap yard by the docks on a damp night in Cardiff wasn’t what Owen would call homely. But it was empty, with lots of places to hide, and even a little closed-up office they’d been able to pick the lock on and steal some supplies. Besides, Owen thought, in the last few days all their standards for what felt like home had been drastically lowered, so all things considered it felt like they were doing well enough for the moment.

“Right! So...” said Tosh, after Owen had changed both their dressings, “we’ve got the car number plate, and going by the tracking signal...” she peered at her PDA, “...Ianto’s reached London. Don’t know about Gwen or Jack, but it’s something.”

“Gwen’ll be with Rhys” said Owen. “She wouldn’t do a runner on her own. Not without him.”

“Yeah. No way of tracking them right now, though.”

He nodded. “Any reply from Jack? To your signal beacon, I mean?”

She frowned, running her fingers over the ring. “...No, nothing yet. Not necessarily a bad sign, but...”

“Jack’ll be okay” said Owen, realising as he said it how much it sounded as though he was trying to reassure himself. “I’m more worried about other people taking it into their heads to do something stupid for his sake.”

“You mean Ianto” said Tosh.

“...Yeah. Well. I’m worried about all of us, goddamn it, but Ianto...” he rolled his eyes. “We’ve only gone and _promised his sister_ we’d make sure he was safe.”

She nodded. “And I’m planning on keeping that promise. I mean, Ianto can look after himself, but…”

“...Yeah.”

They were silent for a little while longer, both lost in their own thoughts. Owen glanced over his shoulder to where Gray was starting a fire, then leaned in towards Tosh, speaking quietly. “Tosh?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it just me, or is there something Gray isn’t telling us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Back there, with Rhiannon. There was something missing from his story, and the way he’s acting...”

“Owen.”

He broke off as she laid a hand on his arm.

“I know how you feel about Gray. And I know it’s because he shot me that time.”

“Yeah, and blew up half the city, and tried to bury Jack alive, and–”

“I know! I know. But I really do believe he’s changed now.”

He sighed. “You _want_ to believe he has, Tosh. It’s not the same.”

She frowned at him. “Well? What do you think? He’s plotting against us?”

“I mean, it’s not impossible.”

She made a dismissive noise. “That’s ridiculous, Owen. And completely unfair.”

“Yeah, maybe… it’s just...”

“What?”

“...I don’t know, exactly” he admitted. “Let’s just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“We’re all supposed to be keeping an eye on each other anyway” said Tosh.

“I know. But–”

“Fire’s ready” said Gray, coming over with the half-rusted tin bucket filled with water.

“Thanks” said Tosh, nodding over at him. “We were just talking about the others, and what we’re going to do now. As I said to Rhiannon, I think our first move should be to get to London. In the morning though; we’re all exhausted. In the meantime, we’ve got shelter here, and some food. We can sleep in shifts. It should be safe enough.”

Owen nodded. “If you’re hurt, I can also patch you up before we move on.”

“I’m fine” said Gray, giving Owen an odd look. He nodded at Tosh. “Yeah” he said. “Whatever you want to do. I’m not hungry, though. I think I’m going to sleep… wake me when it’s my turn to watch.”

“You should eat something” said Tosh. “Those Pot Noodles we stole from the office kitchen–”

“I don’t like noodles” said Gray. “I’m fine.”

For a moment she stared at him, ignoring the look Owen was trying to give her. “Okay” she said.

And he walked away to sit down inside the rusted shell of an old car a little way off.

“...Okay” said Tosh reluctantly, in the silence after he’d gone. “I see what you mean.”

“Yeah” said Owen. “What should we do?”

“Nothing much we _can_ do right now” she said, frowning. “Come on, the fire’s ready. We’ll be able to think better once we’ve had a hot meal.”

“...Yeah.” Owen was quiet for a moment, thinking.

The silence was interrupted by a small chime from Tosh’s laptop.

“Oh!” she said, looking down at it. “File four-five-six is decrypted! It was quicker than I thought.”

“Exciting” said Owen, dryly. “Want to read while I boil the water for the noodles?”

“Oh, would you?” said Tosh.

* * *

“Here’s your food” Owen said, setting down her Pot Noodle beside her. “Gray, you too!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I know you said you didn’t want to eat, but as your doctor I’m overruling that.” He looked back at Tosh. “Not exactly a feast, but they’re the barbecue flavour ones so–” he broke off. “Tosh?”

She turned and looked at him. “Owen...”

As soon as he saw Tosh’s face, he knew something was very wrong. Immediately he knelt down beside her, setting the noodles on the ground and taking her trembling hands in his. “Tosh? What’s happened?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, gaze darting down to the screen then back up to him. Gingerly, as though it might explode, she closed the laptop and began to pack it away again.

“File four-five-six” she said, zipping up the rucksack. Her movements were numb, mechanical. She swallowed, as though steeling herself to carry on. “I read it… I know what happened back then. And...” she looked between Owen and Gray, who had come over to join them and was looking worried, “...what’s happening again.”

“Well?” said Owen. “What? What is it?”

Tosh looked as though she was about to cry, Owen thought in alarm. Already his imagination was filling in the gaps; what could possibly be so horrible?

“It was the children” Tosh began. Her voice sounded hollow, as though she was forcing herself to speak the words out loud. “In Scotland, in nineteen sixty-five–”

But at that moment the stacks of crumpled, rusted metal were illuminated in brilliant white, the sweeping beam of a searchlight. It was only enough to give them an instant's warning before the steel gates on either side were broken down all at once, collapsing inwards with an almighty, echoing crash.

“Drop your weapons and put your hands where we can see them!” came a voice, amplified by a loudspeaker. A woman’s voice, Owen thought. Figures in black, carrying guns, were pouring through all the doors in alarming numbers. “I am authorised to shoot with no further warning if you don’t cooperate.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Owen snarled. Suddenly he was angry, frustration bubbling up in his chest, choking him. He was sick of this, sick of running, sick of fear and uncertainty and not knowing if their friends were dead or alive. “Are you the people who’re trying to wipe us out? Why not take us out now? God knows you’ve brought enough bloody firepower.”

“Owen!” hissed Tosh. “Stop it! I’ll... I’ll find a way, I’ll get us out of this...” she had drawn her gun and was aiming it at the leader, much good as it would do them. On her other side, Gray had picked up a length of rusted rebar as tall as he was and was wielding it like a spear.

But Owen ignored Tosh’s words, anger coursing through him as he yelled at the commander. “So as long as we’re just standing here, you’re gonna answer my question. What’d you do with our friends? Huh? Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper. Did you kill ‘em already? They locked up in a cell somewhere? Or did they get away from you?”

The woman stared him down. Owen stared back, hands balled into fists. “Stop it!” he screamed at her. “Answer my _fucking_ questions... don’t you think you owe us that?”

She stared at him a moment longer, imperious, cold.

 _Then_ –

“Fire at will!” she barked at the soldiers.

“Get down!” screamed Gray, dragging the two of them down to the concrete. Owen bit down on his lip by reflex alone as his gunshot wound sent a slice of pain through the side of his body, the ground coming up to meet him. But an instant later he barely noticed the pain, as several things happened very quickly.

Above them gunfire had just started to rattle before a great, whirring roar of propellers came from above. Another searchlight was sweeping down, a great wind making the rusted metal all around shift and clatter, piles of it crashing to the ground. Owen raised his head, eyes watering in the light as he stared up into blinding brightness. For an absurd moment, he thought of the kind of alien abductions that happened in old TV; a light coming down, taking someone up into a flying saucer. But no, that wasn’t how it was; this was something different, something all too human.

He blinked in the light, seeing that a helicopter hung in place above the scrap yard, a big military one. He couldn’t see the insignia on the side, bright spots dancing before his nightblind eyes for a moment. But he did hear a voice, echoing and amplified by a loudspeaker. “Stand down! Torchwood isn’t your jurisdiction. We’ll take over from here.”

The woman raised a hand, her troupes ceasing fire all around. “On whose orders?”

“Oh, you know. Orders from the top” said the voice. For a brief instant it sounded sort of familiar to Owen, but it was distorted by the loudspeaker and his ears were ringing from the gunfire, mind awhirl with adrenaline, and in the moment he couldn’t place it. Cautiously, he started to pull himself up to his feet, leaning into Tosh as she helped him up and going to stand beside her and Gray. They were staring up into the sky, as bemused as the soldiers seemed to be.

And then the helicopter turned to one side, and Owen saw the letters printed on its side.

 _UNIT_.

He drew in his breath, looking at the exits, which were blocked by the soldiers. Then he looked at Tosh; her eyes had gone very wide and she was clutching the laptop bag to her chest like she was drowning and it was all she had to hold on to. Owen raised his gun, pointing it at the helicopter, much good as it would probably do them.

Tosh was staring up into the sky too, squinting against the lights, her hair blown about in the wind. “It’s them!” she shouted, panicked. “They’ve found me… we have to run!” she hissed, trying to drag Owen away by the arm, towards the exit. “Gray!” She tugged his sleeve. “Come on, there’s no–”

“Not that way!” shouted Owen, pulling her in the other direction, away from the soldiers. “They’ll kill us!”

“They’ll kill us either way!” Gray yelled back over the roaring from above. “There’s no way out of this place!”

“Not with that attitude” growled Owen. He glanced back at the commander; maybe, while she was distracted, there might be a chance.

“My orders were very clear. And I don’t answer to UNIT” she was saying, glaring up at the helicopter. For a moment, Owen caught sight of a figure through the windows; was that a flash of red? But no, he couldn’t see any more for the orange streetlights’ glare off the glass.

“Oh. Shame” said the helicopter pilot, magnified voice booming against steel. “You’re no fun.” They heard a laugh, and then the helicopter was descending, a rope dangling down above Owen, Tosh and Gray. “C’mon, kids. Time for a last-minute rescue. You can thank me later.”

Tosh stared at him, eyes widening. “Is... is that–”

Owen gritted his teeth. “Up the rope” he said.

“But...”

“We’re gonna die if we don’t!” Owen grabbed hold of the rope. “Gray, you too.”

“They’re going to–”

“ _Fire!_ ” shouted the commander, and once again, gunfire began to ring out. But he also heard something else; a put-upon sigh from the loudspeaker above.

“Hey, I would ask if you’re going to make me do this the hard way, but who am I kidding... I’m _all_ about the hard way.”

And as they watched, the helicopter began to spin, its tail listing downwards until it was almost on the ground, sweeping out a wide circle in the scrap yard, with the three of them – and the rope – in the middle. Tosh pulled them all down again as the wind off the propeller – right overhead now – buffeted them like a physical impact. As he stared up with watering eyes, Owen was momentarily convinced the helicopter was going to land on top of them and crush them where they stood. But it didn’t; it stayed hovering, somehow, its tail spinning in a wide circle, striking sparks where the back propeller hit metal and concrete with an ear-splitting screech. The circle was just about as wide as the ring of soldiers, sending them scattering like skittles, running for cover.

The commander, when Owen looked back at her, actually looked slightly disturbed now as her troupes ran for the exits. “Retreat!” she yelled. “Retreat!”

“That’s more like it!” cackled the pilot. “Now, gang, there might be a bit of turbulence...”

“Up the rope!” shouted Owen again as it swung closer. It was turning, swinging every which way in the wind, but he managed to grasp it again, shoving it into Tosh’s hands and pushing her forward, then grabbing on himself. To his relief, she didn't protest but swung the laptop bag onto her back with a determined look, and began to climb. Last of all, Gray grasped the end, climbing up after him. The rope spun with the helicopter, swinging alarmingly to and fro as they took off into the night air above the city.

At the top Tosh pulled him up, dragging him onto the floor of the helicopter, breathing as hard as he was. They both reached down to pull Gray in after them, lying down on the floor for a moment, winded and exhausted.

As they were pulling themselves to their feet, there came the beep of a warning signal, and a voice from the cockpit. “Oh, fuck, the tail’s on fire. Bloody twenty-first century craft. Don’t even have the maneuverability for cool stunts.”

Tosh’s eyes met Owen’s again, and she drew her gun. “You!”

And from the pilot’s seat a familiar face looked over at them. “Well, look who it is” said John Hart, with a grin.

“ _You–_ ” snarled Owen.

“Saved your lives, I know” smirked John. “I told you, you can thank me later. I’ll be accepting payment in any form you choose, and I mean _any_... I encourage you to be creative–”

“We’re dropping in altitude!” interjected Tosh. “Watch the controls!”

John ignored her, not missing a beat. “...Mind you, there seem to be quite a few less of you than last time. What I want to know is, where’s–” his eyes widened almost comically as his gaze caught on Gray.

“Ugh! What the hell is _he_ doing here?!?” demanded John, swiveling around in his chair entirely and baring his teeth at Gray, who was glaring back. If the situation were anything other it would have been hilarious, thought Owen; the two of them looked like a couple of mistrustful alley cats, circling each other warily.

“It’s okay!” said Tosh hastily, putting herself between them. Owen was about to intervene, but paused when she gave him a warning look. “Gray’s different now.”

“I’ll believe that when I–”

“John!” yelled Owen, as warning lights began to blink in earnest, an alarm sounding. “The helicopter!”

“Oh, the _helicopter_ ” sighed John. “Hang on then. Everyone down the rope.”

“You’re not going to even try and stabilise it?” hissed Tosh as they all scrambled for the rope, John taking off his headset and throwing it in the pilot’s seat with a flourish before coming after them.

“Not my problem” shrugged John, following them down.

By the time they reached the ground Owen’s hands were rope burned, the bandages on his palms ripped by the climb. One by one, they fell the last few feet where the rope hung above the concrete surface of an out-of-town supermarket car park, closed and mercifully deserted at this time of night.

He landed hard, making him bite back another scream at the pain in his wound. When he picked himself up it was to see John smile, pulling out a gun and shooting at the helicopter that was still flying away from them, leaving a trail of smoke from its engines.

He shot, and there was an explosion that rocked the car park, the heat of the fireball rolling down to them from above as the blazing wreckage crashed to earth in a nearby field.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” snapped Tosh, rounding on John.

“Aw come on, that thing was a piece of garbage anyway” he said, “And, true to your cute little principles, it didn’t even hit any people! ...It might have roasted a few sheep, but you know, I’ve eaten worse–”

“I mean, what are you doing _here_?” Tosh snarled, her hands on her hips. She had John backed up against a lamp post, leaning into his space.

“Saving your miserable lives, much gratitude as it gets me” said John. “Though if _this_ is my thank you, then I can deal with–”

“Shut _up_ ” said Tosh, drawing back and folding her arms.

“Fine, fine” John grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I followed your signal beacon right here or anything. There I was, over in America, having the time of my life... well, actually I was a bit bored by now I’ll admit, this planet is so _provincial_ sometimes… anyway, I get the signal on here...” he lifted his wrist, tapping the leather strap, “a cry for help, a distress beacon. Only one person it could've come from, I thought, so what do I do? I steal a helicopter from those funny little army people with the red hats and fly across the ocean, to the side of my lost love. Thinking to complete my redemption in his eyes, earn his trust again... blah blah blah, et cetera. You know the sort of thing. Also, maybe get a nice night with him and his hot office boy out of it all, you know? And what do I find? _You_ people. So _rude_.” John pouted, pointing at Gray. “And _him…_ now that’s the last straw. If I never have to see that face again it’ll be too soon. ...Pretty though it admittedly is.”

Tosh rolled her eyes. “Well, thank you for saving our lives” she said, folding her arms. “But I’m afraid we’re kind of in the middle of something important here, and we can’t waste our time with–”

“Toshiko!” yelled Gray, pointing up. “In the sky!”

But even as he said it, it seemed unnecessary. They could all see the light above, expanding above them in a circle that suddenly illuminated the whole car park, more dazzling than daylight.

* * *

“Look out!” screamed Tosh, but it was too late; above them the brightness was so close, expanding so fast that fire seemed to fill the sky in an instant. Tosh remembered thinking it was odd that she couldn’t feel the heat rolling off it, and that was the last thing she thought before all turned to roiling white and yellow flame, quite without heat.

And then, after a length of time, the fire cleared away.

Tosh blinked, disorientated as she sat up; everything around her was pale, in contrast to the place she had left, and for a moment she thought she’d gone blind. Then she turned around, wincing with the pain in her muscles from the last few days, to see Owen, Gray, and John all sitting or lying on the smooth, white ground. A completely white room, the floor smooth and cool – but not quite cold – under her hand, the texture of the material not one she could identify.

John was first to recover, eyes darting around like a cornered animal, hand going for his gun. “What the hell is this?”

“Not a fucking clue” said Owen, pulling himself up. “Tosh? Any ideas?”

But she only barely heard him; she was looking at Gray, at the blank-eyed horror on his face as he slowly got to his feet.

He was facing her, but looking past her at something behind.

She turned slowly.

And gasped, scrambling up to her feet to go stand beside Gray.

In front of them was a single flat wall of glass, more than three times her height and just as wide. Gray had his hand up against it, almost but not quite touching as he stared through.

Outside was a great crescent of identical glass walls, a vast semicircle of stacked-up rooms, many levels both above and below theirs. In the middle of the semicircle was a single door, with a complicated metal platform rigged to it.

It was meant, clearly, for someone to stand on and observe all then glass rooms. No, the cells, Tosh realised. She couldn’t think of anything else this could be but a prison, a vast panopticon meant to hold countless multitudes. Currently empty, except for them.

She turned to look at Gray, still standing there frozen, his breath misting the glass a little.

“Gray?” she asked tentatively. “Do you know something about this?”

He turned to look at her, eyes wide and fearful. “It’s them” he said, voice coming from a strangled place of dread. “They’ve found me. They’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (HAHAHA DID YOU THINK I WASN'T GOING TO BRING BACK CHECKOV'S JOHN)  
> ...Ahem. A few notes:  
> \- Owen and Ianto's trip to Hengoed was from the audio story The Last Beacon (which is probably my favourite audio story of all, so I'm contractually obliged to reference it)  
> \- Tosh's brother who died was mentioned in the audio story torchwood_cascade_CDRIP.tor (aka Cascade)  
> \- Seriously though, please scream with me, I've been very much looking forward to getting to this point for a LONG time  
> \- (Me posting this chapter like *fire Elmo gif*)  
> \- Join me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe  
> \- More SOON <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, after chatting with a few people about this fic, a few notes to start with!  
> \- I feel like this might get a little confusing soon if you haven't seen Children of Earth, sorry. I'm trying to do my best to strike a balance between putting in background and not rewriting canon scenes word for word, but it's not always the easiest to do!  
> \- Nevertheless, if you haven't seen CoE I'd recommend you do for these few chapters, or if not, then at least read the episode summaries on the wiki (for episodes [1](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_One_\(TV_story\)), [2](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Two_\(TV_story\)), [3](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Three_\(TV_story\)), [4](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Four_\(TV_story\)), [5](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Five_\(TV_story\))) which are very good and in-depth in general.  
> \- This coming chapter covers most of Day Three.  
> \- In the previous chapter and (to a certain extent) the upcoming ones, if I haven't stated otherwise it should be assumed that the canon CoE gang (Jack, Ianto, Gwen, and Rhys) are doing pretty much the same as they are in canon; this was a decision I made early on because I wanted to have a more or less "parallel" storyline (with Tosh, Owen, Gray, and John) that still had little points of reference in canon for what was going on. But I realise this might not have been super clear last time.  
> \- Having said that though, that without spoilers, I'm planning on mixing things up a bit later! But I'll try and make it clear what's going on :')  
> \- Hope you enjoy the chapter! <3

Lois Habiba hurried away from the cafe, resisting the urge to glance back over her shoulder as she flagged down a taxi. The plastic case with the contact lenses Gwen had given her bit into her palm, shoved down into her coat pocket. Out of sight of the CCTV cameras. She was trembling, she realised as the taxi pulled up. She had to force herself keep her voice even as she asked to be taken back to Thames House.

She was glad the driver didn’t seem to be the sort to want to talk as the taxi carried her through the streets of London. She realised she still had her hand closed around the case in her pocket just as they turned along the Embankment.

She wouldn’t use them. She couldn’t. She’d lose her job, and it was only her third day. No, it was much worse than that. If she got caught she’d be sent to jail for treason. Lois hadn’t signed up for this. She’d never agreed to it.

She thought about Gwen; tired, desperate, fiercely determined Gwen, on the run from forces none of them understood, not to mention the people Lois worked for.

She wondered who Gwen was, really. Wondered if she had chosen this life. Wondered if she had known what she was signing herself up for.

The taxi drew to a halt.

Her mind elsewhere, Lois paid her fare – in cash – and thanked the driver. Then she gathered up her bag and stepped out, taking a breath before she turned towards the doors of Thames House.

The contact lenses were still in her pocket.

* * *

“Well, this has been fun, but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to get the fuck out of here now” said John. With a smile, he pulled out a gun and aimed at the glass.

“No!” shouted Gray, voice ringing sharp alongside the gunfire. “You can’t break the glass–”

“Shut up.”

“We’ll all die–”

John stopped firing, tilting his head. “Okay, you got me. What d’you mean _we’ll all die_?”

“Outside that glass the air is poison” said Gray. His jaw was set, his whole posture tense as though he had to steel himself for every word. “They only keep human habitable atmospheric levels in the cells. That way...”

“...If anyone escapes, they die” mused Owen, who had gone over to the glass and was peering out. “Clever.”

Now that she looked, Tosh could see a blueish tinge to the air outside, and a slight misty quality that she hadn’t noticed before. She swallowed, nervous. The fact that John’s bullets apparently hadn’t even made a mark on the smooth, unyielding surface of the glass was not as comforting as it should have been.

Gray nodded. “All the others see” he said, shortly. “So they know not to try it.”

“Others?” said Tosh, peering out. “All the other cells are empty.”

He swallowed. “For the moment.”

“So, wait” said Owen. “This is some sort of... what? Prison?”

“Prison ship” said Gray, looking down at his feet. “Slave ship. Something like that.”

Tosh breathed out, quashing her own rising dread. “Is it... is it like before?”

She reached out to him, but before she could touch his arm he pulled away from her, folding his arms across his chest, tilting his head back and leaning against the wall. “Not _exactly_ like–” he broke off.

“But not a million miles away” she said. She bit her lip, feeling the closeness of the walls all around her. This was nothing like the cell she’d been kept in by UNIT, back then – the walls were white and smooth instead of rough concrete, it was bigger, and she wasn’t alone this time – but she knew the way that four walls and no exit began to press in on the heart.

“Right. Well, we need to be practical about this” said Owen. He’d taken on the voice he used when someone was badly injured, and he was doing his best to keep a level head while he kept them alive. His doctor voice, she’d called it in the past. She didn’t know whether it was a good sign or a bad one. “First, we need to figure out what we know.” He went over to the window, laid his hand on it. “If this is a ship – a space ship, I assume – then does that mean we’re not on Earth?”

“Well done for getting the gravity of the situation. We could be fucking _anywhere_ ” broke in John, glaring mutinously at the wall.

But Gray shook his head. “It’s likely they’re still in the atmosphere” he said. He indicated the empty cells, outside the window. “They obviously haven’t got what they came for yet.”

“And what’s that?” said Owen, but his words fell into silence.

Tosh opened her mouth, a sudden, sick feeling rising in her stomach as her mind went back to the file she’d read back in the scrapyard, a horrible suspicion occurring to her. _No_. No, this couldn’t be that, Tosh thought desperately. She had to focus on the present. Focus on getting them out of here. It was the only way she’d get through this, one step at a time. There was still a lot she didn’t understand.

Owen turned to look at Gray. “So, go on then. I think an explanation is due... what is all this shit, and how d’you know so much about it?”

“Owen–” Tosh began.

“No, listen to him” said John, who hadn’t holstered his gun but was playing with it, spinning it idly around his hand with a vicious expression on his face. “If I’m going to be trapped here forever with you people I want an explanation from the only person who seems to know anything.” He grinned, catching the gun’s grip in his hand. “Much as I’d prefer to shoot you in the head.”

“John!” snapped Tosh. “Stop it.”

“What? I’m practicing restraint here!”

Tosh snorted. “You? Restraint?”

“I suppose making a bondage joke here would be almost _too_ easy” said John, mournfully. “But yes, I–”

But he was interrupted by a voice that seemed as though it was coming from all around them, booming through the cell.

“WHAT ARE YOU?”

“Bloody hell” said John, flinching back and raising his gun, pointing it wildly at the ceiling. “It wasn’t going to be _that_ bad a joke–”

“Shhh!” hissed Tosh, drawing her own gun, keeping it low for now. She stared up. “Who is this?”

“WE REPEAT. WHAT ARE YOU?” The voice echoed around the chamber, deep and resonant but somehow just a little tinny, like it was playing over a speaker with the levels set slightly wrong.

“I’d ask you the same question” said Owen. “And for that matter, mind explaining exactly _why_ you’ve got us locked up in a cell?”

“WE HAVE ISOLATED YOU DUE TO YOUR ASSOCIATION WITH THE UNKNOWN REMNANT.”

Tosh exchanged a glance with Owen, glaring up at the ceiling. “What are you talking about? What unknown remnant?”

“HE IS NOT ONE OF EARTH’S CHILDREN, AND YET HE IS LINKED TO US. WE MUST KNOW WHY.”

Tosh squeezed Gray’s hand. “How?” she demanded. “How is he linked to you?”

“HE IS LINKED… IMPERFECTLY.”

She exchanged a glance with Gray. “What does that mean?”

“THAT INFORMATION IS MISSING. IT SEEMS THE HUMAN RACE HAS HIDDEN IT FROM US. PEACEFUL DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS WITH THE HUMAN RACE HAVE BEEN... COMPROMISED. AND THIS CONSPIRACY MUST BE PUNISHED.”

Gray stared up at the ceiling. He looked sick, speaking the words through a clenched jaw. “Don’t harm anyone for my sake. I’ll... I’ll go with you, do whatever you want–”

Tosh grimaced; she knew what that must have cost him. “Gray, no, we’ll find another way–”

“Toshiko, don’t.” He glared up at the ceiling, addressing his words to the voice again. “...But first, I’ll fight for them.”

“THIS IS NOT CORRECT. YOU WILL BE KEPT HERE AND MONITORED UNTIL WE HAVE COMPLETED NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE PEOPLE OF THIS WORLD AND CLAIMED OUR DUE. THEN YOUR FATE WILL BE… DECIDED.”

“Your due?” said Tosh, pushing past the fear threatening to rise up and choke her. “What do you mean by that?”

But the voice didn’t answer.

“Tell us!” she shouted. “Tell us what’s happening!”

She felt Owen’s hand on her arm. “They’re gone, Tosh.”

Her face crumpled. It was just like before, when she’d screamed out for help in an empty cell and received answers only when her captors felt like it. Except now there was no Jack here to save her, standing there in the open doorway about to change her life. There wasn’t even a door at all; no way out.

She nodded, hanging her head as her hand came up over Owen’s on her shoulder. She forced herself to blink away the incipient tears, to look back up at the others; Gray standing in the corner, muscles held tense and rigid. John slouching against the wall with his arms folded, glaring at the rest of them. Owen beside her, looking at her in concern.

But also looking to her for answers. Not that she had any. Still, there was someone here who did; she hadn’t wanted to push too hard before, but now she knew they had no other choice.

“Right. Well” said Tosh, nodding resignedly. She turned to Gray. “Want to tell us what you know?”

Gray opened his mouth to reply.

But instead, he began to scream.

* * *

In her kitchen, Rhiannon looked up from the sink as she dried her hands, and almost dropped her cloth.

All the children in the room were pointing. All in one direction, quiet and absolutely still.

“What is it?” she said, feeling a foreboding dread she barely understood. She resisted turning to look where they were pointing. “Stop it!”

Nothing. It was just like last time, only they weren’t speaking. Quickly, she made a decision, dropping her cloth and running out into the street to find Johnny.

He was already there, running back in the direction of the house.

“It’s on the news, they’re pointing!” he shouted.

“I know! But they’re pointing over there!” she pointed too as Johnny came up to her. “What’s over there?” She thought for a moment, forcing herself to focus as she stared out over the estate, over the concrete and pylons and warehouses beyond. “Go far enough in that direction” she said, thinking aloud, “that’s London. They’re pointing at London.” Her heart skipped in her chest for a moment as she thought about Ianto; Tosh and Owen had told her he was headed to London too. She wondered if he was there, if he was at the centre of it all. Whatever _it_ was.

She looked at Johnny. “Come on. Let’s go check on the children.” The fear she’d felt a moment ago was growing stronger. Fear for her brother, fear for her children. At least Mica and David she could be close to, to physically hold on to them. Not let anyone take them away from her, fight for them if it came to it.

Johnny nodded, and they went back into the house. When they came in the door everything was just as she’d left it; all the children were still pointing. She exchanged a look with Johnny, who looked just as disturbed as she felt.

Just as she looked back, she heard them speak.

“ _We are here_.”

And then the children started to move again, running around the room as though nothing had happened.

* * *

Rhys peered over Ianto’s shoulder as he pulled up the map on the computer.

“It says all the children in America are pointing east, and all the children in Europe are pointing west” Ianto said.

“That’s us” said Rhys, with dawning realisation. “They’re pointing at us.”

Ianto was staring at the monitor, brow furrowed. “They’re pointing at Thames House. ...Come on.”

And then he began to run for the stairs.

Rhys followed a moment later, running through the warehouse after Ianto, the rattle of their steps echoing against the corrugated metal walls and dirty glass. Up the rusted metal stairway to the roof. He found himself blinking in the brighter light out here as he stared up into the cloudy sky. Ianto was shading his eyes and squinting up, but turned as Rhys joined him; they shared a wordless, worried glance.

Just as they looked back up into the sky there was a bright burst of fire, up in the clouds near the river. Rhys watched, mouth hanging open as the clouds parted in a perfect circle, a blazing column of fire falling from the sky, down to one of the buildings along the river bank.

And then just as quickly as it had come it faded, dissipating from the top down. Leaving a great circular gap in the clouds.

He and Ianto looked at each other again for a stunned moment. “Guess that’s what they were pointing at” said Rhys.

Ianto nodded grimly. “We need Jack and Gwen to come back” he said. “Then we can figure out what to do about it.”

* * *

The sudden sound of screaming made Tosh flinch as Gray’s hands flew to the sides of his head, holding it as though he were trying to keep his skull from splitting apart. He fell to his knees, hunching over nearly to the floor.

“Gray... Gray!” Instantly Tosh was at his side, but drew back at the last moment before touching him; his eyes were squeezed closed, teeth gritted as though in terrible pain, and though he was no longer screaming he had collapsed half against the wall trembling violently, letting out a muffled whimper of agony. “Owen!” shouted Tosh. “What’s wrong with him?”

Owen had already knelt down at his other side and was trying to pry Gray’s arm away from his face to check his pulse, with little success. Gray was stronger than Owen was, and now every muscle in his body was tense, tendons in his neck corded out and fists clenched against the sides of his head, hunched over as though expecting a stinging blow. “I… don’t know...” Owen said, through gritted teeth. “Some kind of attack, or–”

“Hmm” said John, coming over to lean over Tosh’s shoulder and look. “Now _that_ reminds me of a weird night I had once.”

“Not now” she snapped, swatting at him impatiently. “Go away.”

“Okay” said John, as Tosh tried to lay her hand against Gray’s on his face only to have him flinch from her touch, scrambling away until he was backed up into the corner of the cell, “then I suppose you don’t want to know that this is obviously a fuck-up in telepathic frequencies, and if you people weren't so stuck in the twenty-first century you’d recognise the signs straight away.”

Tosh turned to look at him at that; Owen did too, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, _now_ you’re listening!” said John, grinning.

“Telepathic frequencies?” said Tosh.

“Uh huh. Telepathy, by my time, is pretty safe when used well, but if you get the frequencies just a bit off, it can be… nasty. Lots of pain and screaming, cognitive dissonance after-effects that last for days, et cetera. ‘Course, some people are into that kind of thing, but–”

“How do we stop it?” said Owen.

John shrugged. “You can’t, obviously, unless whoever's transmitting it decides to stop. You just have to wait for it to pass.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking. “Unless you kill him. That would also work. Usually does...”

“We’re _not_ doing that” hissed Tosh, trying to take Gray’s hand again; a moment later he wrenched it away from her with a snarl.

“Suit yourself” said John, shrugging.

But Tosh wasn’t listening; she’d turned back to Gray, curled up in the corner. He’d gone still, knees pulled up to his chin, hands still loosely covering his head. He was trembling violently. “Okay, so we wait for it to pass” she muttered. “Owen, what can we do to help him? Medically, I mean?”

Owen frowned. “Uhhh… well, seems like it’s psychological rather than physiological in origin, but we can still treat the physical symptoms.”

“Which are?”

“Um... elevated heart rate, irregular breathing. I can’t tell if there’s anything else unless he lets me examine him, but that should do for now. He trusts you, that should help. Sit close – not too close – try to get him to breathe slowly, regularly. Like you would help someone through a panic attack.”

She nodded. This, at least, she knew how to do; in their line of work, it was something everyone got to practice all too often.

“Gray... Gray!” she wondered if she was talking too loud, but he didn’t seem to hear her, his eyes squeezed closed and his hair falling over his face. “I’m going to need you to breathe, okay? Long breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” She took his hand again, fingers brushing over the pulse at his wrist; like Owen had said it was far too fast, as though he’d been running, breath hitching in his chest. She laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles there, looking at Owen for help when Gray didn’t seem to react to it at all.

And then she remembered something that Gray had told her, a long time ago. A girl and a boy, children locked away in the dark. Keeping each other going while they could. She let out her breath; it was worth a try at least.

Taking his hand in hers, she uncurled his fingers – with difficulty, his muscles tense – and began to trace a symbol there, over and over again.

“Tosh, what’re you–”

“ _Shh_ ” she told Owen. “Wait.”

For a long time nothing changed; the only sound in the cell was their breathing, as well as the sound of Tosh’s own heartbeat, loud in her own ears.

She wasn’t sure how much time it took for Gray’s breathing to begin to slow down and even out. She kept tracing the symbol, thinking back to a cloudy day on the water; Cardiff Bay and aliens and time travelers and _home_. She felt tears prick at her eyes at that; it felt like so long ago now, and a world away.

At long last Gray’s eyes flicked open, looking up at her as she traced the symbol on his palm. “Safe harbour” he said, almost too low for her to hear.

She nodded, smiling through her tears. “Safe harbour.”

* * *

“There you go” Gwen told Clem, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he sat down on the sofa. “We’ll get you some hot food in a minute, okay? Rhys is making something.”

“Tinned hot dogs and beans” said Rhys, from over by the fire. “Warehouse specialty.”

“Aw, you’ve really outdone yourself” said Gwen, giving Rhys a grin before leaving the two of them alone, going over to Ianto. “Any more news? Any word about Tosh and Owen, or Gray? And have you figured out where Jack’s gone yet?”

“No, no, and also no” said Ianto shortly. He looked frustrated Gwen thought, and very tired. That was understandable, of course. But she thought she could guess what was bothering him.

“Ianto.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You know how Jack is. He leaves, but he always comes back.”

He looked up at her, a strange, pained sort of expression on his face. Then he smiled, still weary and drawn but with a little warmth showing through. “Yeah.”

“D’you want to come and eat with us? Rhys is making something for Clem.”

Ianto looked over. “No thanks. Not really hungry.”

“Then you should try and get some sleep. No offense, but you look awful.”

“I got a solid hour's nap in the car” said Ianto, an edge of irritation in his voice. Gwen knew for a fact this wasn’t true; she’d heard him muttering in a light sleep from the back of the car for about half an hour, had turned around to look just as an ambulance's blaring siren had woken Ianto up with a gasp. She didn’t feel much like arguing the point though. And besides, it wasn’t like Gwen was any better, running on caffeine and desperation, seeing danger around every corner.

Maybe they’d all been on the run too long.

Ianto tilted his head, looking at her carefully. “Shouldn’t _you_ sleep, though?”

“Nah. I don’t think I could.” Gwen sighed. “Too much adrenaline” she said. She smiled at his sceptical expression. “I’ll be fine, Ianto.”

“Let’s hope we all will be” he said. He looked over to the other side of the warehouse. “You managed to get Clem out, then.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Poor man. I want to be able to help him, save him from all this.”

“We will” said Ianto, his voice softening a little as he leaned against the table beside her. “Once Jack gets back. Once we’ve found the others. We _will_.” Though his voice didn’t waver, there was a quality to it that sounded like he was trying convince himself.

Gwen leaned her head on his shoulder, patting his arm. “I know, Ianto. I know.”

* * *

“Alright, so. Has this happened before?” asked Tosh. A little time had passed, and they were all sitting cross-legged on the floor in a loose circle. Except for John who was lounging in the corner, inspecting and rearranging his weapons and pretending not to listen to every word they said.

Gray nodded. “Yeah.”

“How many times?”

He blinked, casting his eyes down as though he was reluctant to speak about it. “This was... the fourth.”

“The _fourth_?” said Tosh, shocked.

“ _That’s_ what you were hiding from us” said Owen.

Gray looked away. “I never wanted any of you to see it.”

“When did it start?” Tosh asked gently.

“Just a few days ago” he told her. “The day... the day all this started. The day of the explosion, but before that. In the morning.”

She pressed her lips together, feeling guilty as she thought back to the incident report she’d seen. They’d all been so busy, but she should have pushed harder, should have done more than just phone Jack and tell him about it. She should have–

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait” said Owen, breaking into her thoughts. His eyes were wide, like his mind was working faster than his words could catch up with. “Gray, d’you remember what time it happened?”

Gray scrunched up his face. “The first two times were on that first day, in the morning” he said. “And then there was one more time when I was following Myfanwy, searching for Ianto. Must've been about... midday, the day after the blast.”

Owen looked over at her. “Tosh, what times were the incidents with the children?”

Her eyes widened. “You think–?”

“I don’t know. I’m ruling out possibilities here.”

There was tense silence as she opened the laptop and brought up the notes she’d made last night. “The first two were on Monday morning, at eight forty and ten thirty AM” she said. “The third was at quarter past twelve on Tuesday.” She looked up at them. “That can’t be coincidence. Well, I suppose it _could_ be, but...”

“But probably not” agreed Owen. “But what does it mean?”

“I think it means Gray’s linked to the same telepathic field as whatever is doing that to the children” said Tosh.

“ _Imperfectly_ , they said” muttered Gray.

“Which means...” she bit her lip. She only knew a little about telepathy; that was more Jack’s area. “Gray, does this feel like… anything that’s happened to you before?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “The creatures that took me” he said, shortly. “It’s how they... communicated with the prisoners. Or at least...” he frowned. “I recognised the feeling of them in my head. But it wasn’t words, like it was then. It was just...” he shook his head. “Sound. Screaming. Pain.”

“Told you” said John, who by now had stood up and gone over to the wall and was running his hands over it, trying to feel for some small crack or irregularity. “Telepathic interference. Get the frequencies wrong for an existing telepathic link and the brain can’t process it into anything sensible. Nasty stuff.”

“Interference. Like a radio tuned just off the right channel...” Tosh muttered. She frowned, frustrated. “If I had any of my kit from the Hub I could take energy readings… maybe we could reverse it, shut down the connection.”

“And if I had my bioscanner we could scan his brain for anything out of the ordinary” said Owen.

“Yeah, well, we don’t have any of your toys” said John, looking down at the three of them over his shoulder. “So you’re just going to have to listen to me, aren’t you? Because as endearing as this is, you’re asking the wrong questions.”

Owen gave an exasperated sigh. “Go on then. What are the right questions?”

“Well, for a start, why is a kid taken from a boring little sandy-asscrack-of-the-galaxy colony settlement in the fifty-first century–”

“Hey!”

“–already connected to these guys raiding Earth in the _twenty-first_ century?”

Tosh narrowed her eyes. “Time travel?”

“I didn’t think they ever had time travel” said Gray.

Owen was clearly losing his patience with John. “Are you actually asking, or do you know and want to be fucking irritating about it?”

John made a wiggly motion with his hand. “Eh. Gotta take what you can get.” He balked at Owen’s expression. “Alright, alright! Anyone with any sense would shift the telepathic frequencies in common use over three thousand years, assuming they’ve come the long way around.”

“That _would_ make sense with the frequencies being off...” said Tosh.

John nodded, still managing to roll his eyes while he did so. “Well there you go then. Mystery solved.” And he went back to inspecting the smooth white wall.

“No it’s not!” said Owen. “I still don’t understand...” he frowned. “So, wait. Whatever’s controlling the children, is what’s got us now. And they’re somehow the same things that had Gray, in the fifty-first century?”

Tosh nodded. “I think… pretty much, yeah” she said.

“There are still things I don’t understand, though. First of all, what do they _want_?”

She looked between Owen and Gray. “I’ve... got an idea, I think” she said grimly. “And... god I _hope_ I’m wrong, but... I’m sorry, Gray. I really, really am. You’re going to have to tell us everything you know about them.”

* * *

Jack hesitated outside the warehouse. Through the crack under the door, he could see the dim flicker of firelight, hear faint voices when he pressed his ear against the metal.

Inside were several of the people he cared about most in the world. He hoped they’d been all right without him; in hindsight, he wondered if he shouldn’t have said more before running off and leaving them. He supposed Gwen at least would probably give him an earful over that, and maybe he’d deserve it.

But still he waited, reluctant to go in just yet.

He could hear their voices, recognised the intonation even though he couldn’t make out the exact words from here. Gwen, Rhys, Ianto. Half of his family. He hoped Owen, Tosh, and Gray were out there somewhere, still alive, on their way back to him. He couldn’t help but think of Tosh’s voice in his ear as he had last heard it – tinny on the comm link, high-pitched with panic. About to be trapped deep underground, his fault, _his fault._

His team was all he had, he sometimes thought. His team and his family, which sometimes seemed like one and the same.

What would they think, he wondered, when they found out what he’d done back then. It would change how they all saw him. He bit his lip, trying to tell himself it didn’t matter; he had to concentrate on saving the world, and now at least he knew a little better what they were facing.

Guilt really did add up the longer you carried it. Jack knew that better than most. He felt awash with it now, drowning in a great sea of it; for Gray, Tosh, Owen, for Alice and Steven, who were being held against him. That had been just another unpleasant surprise amongst so many today. (And Lucia had always kept her away from him, had always feared that people might try to use their daughter against him. And maybe she was right.) And there was more guilt too, guilt for not taking Frobisher’s wife and children in retaliation; sometimes, mercy was self-indulgent, a luxury he couldn’t afford, but he chose it anyway. Guilt for the times he hadn’t chosen mercy; those children, in nineteen sixty-five.

His only consolation then was he had told himself that would be the end of it, that they’d never come back for more.

Just as he was thinking about this, Jack realised there was a fourth voice beyond the door.

Jack sighed; he guessed he knew who that might be, what the consequences of it would be. Well he had to face them some time, he supposed.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

* * *

“We never knew what they were back then” said Gray. His face was utterly blank, voice uninflected. He looked as though he was struggling desperately hard to keep it that way. “The creatures that took me... I never knew their name. If they had one it wasn’t in a language we knew, and no one in my village would have spoken it anyway. Everyone always just said... _them_ ” he glanced upwards as he said it, eyes wide and wary, “and people knew what they meant. We lived in fear of them, although no one knew where they came from then, or where they took people. We just knew that those who were taken never came back. And that they suffered.”

“How?” said John, leaning forward. “How did you know, if no one came back?”

Gray looked up at him. “There were stories” he told him. “You must’ve heard them too, whatever world you grew up on. A civilisation stretching back thousands of years...” he swallowed, nervous. “Once they’d been great, we heard. A great empire, stretching across the galaxy, built on slavery and trading in a certain...” he waved a hand, “compound, that for some species made them... feel chemical bliss. We were told...” he dropped his voice, sounding as though the words were difficult to say, “that thousands of years ago, before they learned to synthesise it, they would extract it from... human children.”

There was a short, horrified silence, as they all took this in.

Tosh stared at him. “They took children... to extract a chemical from them? To use as a drug?”

“Not in my time. In my time, they were only slavers, long past the height of their civilisation, and desperate. They didn’t just take children, they took everyone they could get. They were constantly at war, or on the run, so a lot of the captives... us, a lot of us died before we could be sold on, or put to use. But there were always more.” Gray swallowed, looking a little sick. “I always thought that part about the children was just a story, though.”

“It _was_ just a story, meant to scare children out in the colony worlds” scoffed John. “Maybe they even spread it themselves, after their empire collapsed and they became scavengers and raiders, trading slaves for all they could get. A fallen empire might do pretty well by saying they used to extort Earth, the original human homeworld, for its children. Makes them seem a little tougher. Bit of ruthless old-world glamour to it, you know.”

“They were plenty ruthless in our time” snapped Gray. “But what if there was something in it? I heard they were at their height around the beginning of the thirty-second century. What if...”

“...What if this is where it started” said Tosh, eyes going wide.

“You mean, what if this is the first time they raid Earth? ...And if they come back in the year three thousand or whenever, does that mean they succeed now?” asked Owen. “You two who know the future, I’m looking at you.”

John only shrugged. “Lost to time, apparently. And time can be rewritten, in ways you can’t imagine.”

Gray nodded. “I never heard about–” he broke off. “Toshiko?”

She stared at him, then at Owen, forcing herself to speak. “What you said might be true. It does fit with what we know” she said. “But... its not the first time they’ve come to Earth.”

Owen looked at her. “What?”

She took a long, shuddering breath. With everything else, she’d almost forgotten; it hadn’t been the sort of thing she’d thought she’d ever forget, but these were different times. “File four-five-six” she said. “I read it, before we got taken. They’ve... they’ve been here before, in nineteen sixty-five.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “The boy. I mean, the old man in the care home, the one Gwen went to see...”

She nodded, grimly. “He must have been the lucky one.”

“Well, what happened?” asked Gray. “Did they take children then?”

“Worse” she said. “They... gave them to them.”

“ _Gave_ them to them?” said John. “Who did? ...As a matter of interest, who the hell even makes decisions like that for this planet nowadays? I’ve sort of lost track.”

She looked between the three of them. John, standing with his arms folded, still sceptical. Owen, as pale and wide-eyed as she’d ever seen him. Gray, staring at her like he was beyond fear now, face like a stone wall.

She couldn’t keep it from them any longer, much as she wanted to.

“Torchwood did” she said, simply. “...Specifically, Jack did. He gave them twelve children, and then they left.”

There was another short silence.

Owen was shaking his head. “No” he said. “No, no, that’s not Jack. He wouldn’t do that. That’s not his style.”

Tosh’s chest was aching. “He did, though” she said. “I’m sorry.” She laid her hand on Gray’s arm; his face was studiously blank. “If it helps, he didn’t have much choice” she said. “The record says they threatened to release a virus, a new strain of flu that would have effects comparable to the nineteen-eighteen Spanish flu pandemic. Worse, maybe. Jack would have known what that was like. He would have remembered it.” She stared down at her hands as she thought of the history of the twentieth century, the wars, the disease and death and suffering that Jack had lived through; for a moment it overwhelmed her.

For a moment she came close to understanding his decision, which scared her almost more than anything else she’d heard today.

“Well, I think he made the right decision” said John, breaking into her thoughts. “And if they’re making the same offer to the human race now, he’d better hurry up and make it again so we can all go along our merry way.”

Tosh glared at him. “Shut up” she hissed.

“What? Oh, come _on_. If it’s twelve children – even hundreds, thousands of children, even millions – against however many of you are on this little rock in this time period, then I’d have thought it’s pretty clear what you should do.”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “Never did like the trolley problem. Especially when you don’t have a choice about whether to participate or not.”

John laughed, bitterly. “With odds like that, d’you really think anyone’s playing because they _cho_ _o_ _se_ to?” But he frowned. “...And I know what he’s like. Bloody bleeding heart like he is... I know what that would’ve cost him.”

Tosh gritted her teeth, looking at Gray. He hadn’t spoken since she’d mentioned Jack, just held himself very still. Too still, but with a slight tremble to him, as though he was struggling to keep his muscles rigid to avoid some outburst.

“Wait” said Owen, looking between the two of them. “If Jack had seen them before, back when you were taken... why didn’t he recognise them for what they were in nineteen sixty-five? Or now, for that matter? ...Or was it just him keeping more bloody secrets from us all again?”

Gray did speak now, voice flat and toneless as he shook his head. “They never showed themselves, back then” he said. “They’d come in over the sea in their ships. They couldn’t breathe our atmosphere, but they could still take. ...Only the prisoners saw what they really looked like. It’s likely he didn’t know what he was dealing with.”

 _Would his choice have been any different if he had?_ Tosh wondered. “Well, it doesn’t matter” she said firmly, even though it did. “What matters isn’t what Jack did then. It’s what we do now.”

“And what the hell would _that_ be?” demanded John. He glared at his vortex manipulator, giving it a few good smacks before giving up, slumping against the wall in frustration. “There’s no way out of here. If we break the glass, we die, which doesn’t seem fun, but otherwise I’m stuck in here with you lot.” He glared at the three of them, focusing on Gray. “Especially you.” He made a _watching you_ motion with his hand, pointing at Gray. “You may have changed your tune, acting all sad victim, but that’s what you did when I first found you. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how _that_ turned out.” He raised his arm, pushing aside the leather a little to show the deep, knotted mass of scar tissue at his wrist.

And Tosh was struck with sudden inspiration, her mind going back a few months ago. “Well,” she said briskly, interrupting Gray before he could reply, “the way I see it, we have two options. We can either sit here and wait for them to kill us–”

“Or worse!” put in John, cheerfully.

“Or worse” she agreed. “... _Or_ , we can try and get out of here, get back to the others and stop these creatures.”

“Well personally, I like that second option” said Owen. “One problem. How?”

Tosh glanced up at John over the top of the laptop. “John. I know it’s hard for you but I’m going to need you to cooperate with us, just for a bit.” She took a deep breath. “We’ll need your help.”

“And why, please do tell, should I help you?”

“Because you’re trapped in here with us. We’re all in the same boat.”

John shrugged. “I’ll work something out. And besides, if we extend the metaphor, it’s not like I’ve never left anyone alone in a boat to die before. It’s fun, you should try it some time. Very liberating.”

“For Jack, then.”

John waved a hand dismissively. “He’s not here.”

“Because it’s the decent thing to do.”

John laughed. “ _Please_. Did you really think that would _help_ your argument?”

“...Not particularly. Which is why I saved the best for last.” Tosh’s eyes shone. She nodded at John’s wrist. “If you help us, I’ll fix your vortex manipulator. Does that sound good to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this! I'm having a lot of fun (well "fun" according to a certain definition of the term) getting into my most upsetting headcanons abot 456 and/or Gray so hope you're enjoying that....more soon!  
> 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Children of Earth programming note: this chapter roughly covers the first half of [Day Four](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Four_\(TV_story\)).

“Fix my vortex manipulator?” John scoffed. “Nice try. I _know_ how to fix it, I just don’t have access to the right base codes in this bloody backwards century–”

“Oh yeah?” Tosh raised an eyebrow. “It’s broken, but the circuits aren’t fused; the Doctor only learned to be more thorough later, after Jack fixed his. Which means, if I’m right, it only needs a reboot, for which you need teleport base codes. Two oscillating digits, programmed into the spatio-temporal relocation chip. Two digits which... oh, yes, I have in here.” She smiled sweetly back at the sudden hungry look in his eye, tapping her temple. “So. Feeling more like helping us yet?”

John pouted at her. “Now, how the hell do I know you’re not bluffing?”

“You don’t” she said, shrugging. “But there’s a _chance_ I’m not. And I’ll bet you want to get out of here enough to take it.” She held out a hand. “I just need to borrow it for a bit.”

“Nice try” said John with a sneer. “If you think I’m just going to _give_ you this, you’re stupider than I thought.”

“Well, okay” said Tosh. “I guess we’re all just staying here until they come and kill us, rather than teleporting out of here.”

John rolled his eyes. “Tell me the teleport base codes, and we’re done here. I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

“But then what would I have to bargain with?” Tosh asked. She held out her hand. “Come on. Give me the vortex manipulator, and I promise – I _promise –_ I won’t leave you here to die.”

John scoffed. “I’ve heard that before. Said it too. Mostly before leaving someone to die.” He gave a put-upon sigh. “Look, seeing as I don’t have a working means of time travel right now, I really don’t have time for this” he said, looking almost bored as he pulled out his gun and pointed it at Tosh. “Base codes, if you really have them. If not, a nice bullet to the throat might teach you not to be such a tease.”

“Put it _down_ ” snarled Owen, pulling out his own gun and pointing it at John, fury and caution warring in his face. Tosh tried to keep still, to not flinch as she stared down the gun’s muzzle.

John looked over at Owen like he’d forgotten he was there and burst out laughing, raising another gun and pointing it at him. “Oh, chivalry is it? Cute. It’s almost like – _ah!_ ” John let out a fairly undignified squawk, whirling around as Gray lunged up behind him, grabbing the katana in its sheath at his belt. In a single fluid, quick motion Gray had it unsheathed, slipping his arms around John from behind and bringing the blade up beneath John’s chin. Tosh all but flinched as she watched John gasp, fingers tensing on the trigger of the gun for an instant before freezing again. But the movement was just enough; she saw the honed edge pressing up into the soft flesh beneath John’s chin, just enough to break the skin and set a single drop of blood rolling down his throat to soak into the fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t threaten my friends” said Gray through gritted teeth. “ _Ever_ again.”

“Ohoho!” John licked his lips, still obviously nervous but trying for a sneer. “You’ve changed your tune since the last time. _Friends_ , is it? What happened to your one goal being to rip apart your brother’s life and kill everyone he held dear, hmm?”

“Shut up” snarled Gray. “I… I’m… um, that was a long time ago.”

John smiled, all teeth, as he drew back a fraction from the blade pressed up under his chin. “Ah, character development. Power of friendship, et cetera. How sweet.”

“Shut _up_ ” said Gray again, pressing the flat of the blade a little closer to John’s throat.

“Yeah, leave him alone” said Tosh.

John turned an incredulous eye on her. “Me? Leave _him_ alone? The man who’s got my own sword pressed to my throat? I mean, don’t get me wrong... aesthetically? Stylish, classic choice. Threatening with a promise of more, that sort of thing. Some excellent jugular vein action going on. But–”

And then that voice rang out again from all around them.

“NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE HUMAN RACE HAVE BEGUN.”

“Ah! Fuck!” yelled John, as both he and Gray flinched, making another drop of blood roll down his throat. “Why is it always me they interrupt? Am I their least favourite prisoner, or–”

“Shhh!” said Tosh. “Listen!”

“YOUR FATE WILL BE DETERMINED BY THE OUTCOME OF THESE NEGOTIATIONS” continued the voice.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Well that really fills me with fucking confidence. I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

Tosh frowned up at the ceiling; she had the vague idea that the voice was coming from there. “What fate? What will happen to us?”

“IF THE NEGOTIATIONS ARE COMPROMISED, THEN ACTION WILL BE TAKEN. THOSE THAT REMAIN WILL… SEE.”

“What does that _mean_?” Tosh said, frustrated, but there was no answer. She tutted. “Damn it! That wasn’t an explanation!”

“Yeah, well, it never is” said John, rolling his eyes. “ _Why am I being held here?_ you ask... but then it’s always ‘ _you know what you did’_ this, and ‘ _crimes against humanity’_ that–”

“Shut up” said Tosh, patiently. She was starting to lose count of how many times she’d said that recently. She ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, so it sounds like we’re being kept as hostages, some kind of extra security. I don’t know where the others are, but maybe we’re being held against them?” She frowned, suddenly aware that if she died here, her mother might never know. But no, surely Jack would tell her. Picturing it brought tears to her eyes, so she forced the image from her mind. “If they – or, I don’t know, the human race – don’t comply with their demands, they’ll kill us along with everyone else they’re going to kill” she said, wrinkling her nose. She gave a small, bitter laugh. “As blackmail goes, it’s not very imaginative, is it?”

“It might well work though” said Owen, frowning. “If they’ve got us, then maybe they’re specifically targeting Jack and the others.”

Tosh smiled. “Trust them to be right in the centre of it all.” Her smile faded a moment later. “But what are they going to do to us? I mean, we haven’t seen a single person – creature – since we got here. We’ve just heard their voices. I want to know what they mean by _action will be taken–_ ”

“I know what it means” said Gray flatly, surprising them all. They all turned to look at him, and Tosh saw that his face had gone pale again; he looked a little sick. He swallowed, looking around. “Or... I think so. I know what they do to people.”

“What?” said Owen, frowning.

“They used to... I mean, they will...” again he looked as though the words were causing him pain. “In my time, if a prisoner – or a batch of them – tried to break free, then they’d… isolate that cell, and...” he gestured at the wide arc of cells outside the window, all glass, all empty but theirs.

“And what?” asked Tosh. She was sure she wouldn’t like the answer, but she had to know. “What would they do?”

Gray shrugged. “They’d flood that cell with… something” he said. “Poisoned air, it must have been. Because the prisoners inside would die choking on their breath, and everyone else would have to watch. They’d know not to try anything, then.”

Tosh swallowed, feeling a little sick.

“Poisoned air” said Owen. He was trembling a little, as though in suppressed rage, although he was keeping his voice perfectly level. Dangerously so. She could see his mind working it through, so he didn’t break under it. “A toxic gas, then? An asphyxiant?”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t know. No one lived through it. But...” he frowned. “I heard it was some kind of virus” he said. “Engineered to kill humans and human variants quickly and efficiently. I don’t know if that was true then, let alone now, but...” he tailed off.

“Why, though?” said Tosh, giving Gray’s hand a squeeze as her mind seized on this. That part seemed odd, and it was better than thinking about children suffocating to death. Or, in fact, themselves suffocating to death; it was all too easy to imagine how it would feel to claw against that unyielding glass, gasping for breath. “Why not just poison them, or let their own toxic atmosphere flood the place?”

“To draw it out” said John, his face closed off, brows furrowed. With each moment, there was less of the perpetual, teasing smile there, his tone bleak. “Optimise the process.”

Owen nodded. “Yeah, I’ll bet it’s that” he said, teeth gritted. “They probably want them to die at just the right speed and in enough pain to sow fear. Keeps the prisoners docile” he said bitterly. “Or maybe just because they _can_.”

There was a short silence in the wake of this.

It was Tosh who broke the hush; she held out her hand to John. “So. Have you thought more about a deal yet?”

“Yes” said John. “Tell me the base codes, and–”

“Not on your life” said Tosh, as behind them Gray started to raise John’s katana again.

John gave a deep sigh. “O-fucking-kay” he grumbled, as he started to reluctantly unbuckle the strap around his wrist. “You don’t seem the type to abandon me here to die anyway. I mean, I’ve been wrong before, but–”

“We won’t leave you” said Tosh with a genuine smile, as he reluctantly handed it to her. “Thank you.”

He tried to peer over her shoulder as she worked her way through the settings, but she turned away so her back was to him as she tried to figure out the interface. If he tried anything, Owen had his gun out and Gray was still holding the sword. She trusted both of them, knew they’d protect her while she worked, but it didn’t stop her feeling nervous. Not all of it had to do with John, either; this was different from Jack’s vortex manipulator that he’d showed her all those months ago, she soon realised. Either one or both of them must have made modifications themselves.

Still, at last she found the right setting, programming in the teleport base codes as she remembered them. Just two extra numbers, a four and a nine; simple. “There” she said, holding it up. She peered down at the small screen as she tried to decide what coordinates to use; _where should they even go? Back to Cardiff? To London, where Ianto had supposedly gone? Somewhere else_ _entirely_ _?_ _No, best try London_ , she thought. It was their original plan, after all. She began to set the spatial coordinates. She kept the time coordinates the same; Tosh had seen enough tears and loops and rifts in time to last a lifetime, and a paradox would be all they needed on top of everything else. “Now, we’ll need to do this in stages” she began. Best to think about logistics, think her way out of this. When they were all out of this cell, then they could think about the wider situation. “Because unless I’m mistaken, you can only teleport one extra person, or at most two, yes?” She started to wrap the strap around her wrist. “But–”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence, as several things happened at once.

Her hands about to start doing up the buckle, Tosh heard a gasping scream as John darted forward in a scarlet blur and kicked Owen’s gunshot wound, sending his leg flying out from under him. As Owen crumpled to the floor she heard shots, deafening in the enclosed space as Owen fired at where John had been, missing by half a foot as he collapsed in pain. At the same time, John lunged for Tosh’s wrist where she’d been about to buckle the leather strap, grabbing for it; it fell on the floor and they both went for it at the same time. At the same moment, Gray lunged forward, blade glinting in the light as he struck forward, a savage, precise cut. But he wasn’t fast enough and the blade sliced through empty air, John sweeping up the vortex manipulator in his hand with a grin.

“Pleasure doing business with you” he said to Tosh with wink and a grin. She was aware she was yelling in outrage, one hand going for her gun and the other for her time lock – _maybe she could stop this, freeze him in place_ – but it was too late.

In another instant there was a flash of blue-white light, and when it cleared John had vanished.

* * *

Lois couldn’t help the tears rolling down her face as she watched the video feed from inside the tank. She hoped Gwen didn’t mind the blurring of the footage, but she couldn’t help it; she’d never seen anything more horrible.

This was what they were allowing, the people she’d worked for. It was all in the name of keeping the country safe, the world safe. But _this..._

As much as Lois cried, she couldn’t look away from the shaky video feed on the screen. And it wasn’t even the aliens, wasn't the strange, insectile hooks dripping with... she didn’t even want to think what.

It was the child. A human child, but with the humanity, the autonomy, stripped away. Hollowed out and preserved forever, connected by tubes and wires to this _thing_.

 _Was this what the universe was?_ Lois thought. Suddenly, absurdly, she found her mind going back to when she was a child herself, and her dad had listened to the radio play of _The War Of The Worlds_ on the casette player in the car. It had been her favourite story, once. Aliens, coming from Mars to take over. But this wasn’t a story; this was real, this was here, and it wanted the children, wanted to make them into _that_ …

Lois bit down on her lip, her resolve hardening. Where before she’d been doing this mostly for Gwen, for the brave woman she’d met in the cafe not two days ago, now, she knew, it was bigger than that. Bigger than her, bigger than her job or charges of treason, or anything else.

Whatever else happened, Lois decided, she was going to help Torchwood put a stop to this.

* * *

“Fuck’s _sake_!” Owen yelled, kicking the wall furiously. He nearly fell down again as a bolt of pain ricocheted through his whole body from his wounded leg, but Tosh was there, holding on to him to keep him standing. With her beside him he sank to one knee, dropping his head and punching the floor with his closed fist. “I _knew_ we should never’ve trusted Captain John _fucking_ Hart. Bloody _typical_.”

“It was my fault” said Tosh, wiping her eyes miserably. “I let him get the vortex manipulator from me–”

“No” broke in Gray, wiping a few drops of blood off the katana on his jeans and sheathing it with shaking hands. “It was me. I should’ve–”

“Okay, let’s calm it with the self-pity party” interrupted Owen, gathering himself together. He took a deep, shaky breath; his wound had started to bleed again when John kicked him, seeping slow and steady through the dressing. He’d left the medical kit back in the scrap yard before they were attacked. _Stupid_. But he needed to stay calm, he knew. Focus. “What’ve we got?”

“Nothing!” said Tosh, her voice rising. “We’ve got _nothing_ , Owen. We–”

“Hey!” he laid his hands on hers, recognising the start of panic in her eyes. “Hey, Tosh. Stop it.” He remembered not too long ago when he’d said the same, bleeding from his wound as they hid from the snipers. He took a deep breath. “We’ve got us” he said. He gestured to Gray, to come over and sit on Tosh’s other side, making eye contact and forcing a small smile onto his face. He wrapped his arms around Tosh, hoping she couldn’t feel him trembling too much. After a moment when she leaned into his embrace, he pressed a kiss into her hair. “And that’s better than nothing, yeah?”

Tosh sniffed, looking up at him and blinked away more tears. “Yeah” she said in a small voice.

“Right” said Owen. “Now, we’ve still got your bag... bloody smart of you to remember to bring that even when we were climbing that rope, fucking hell... and so we’ve got the tools from the kit, haven’t we?”

“Some of them” said Tosh. She was sitting up now, zipping open the bag. “We’ve also got the laptop and two PDAs, but...” she shook her head, opening the laptop. “The battery won’t last long.” She laughed, slightly hysterical. “And there aren’t exactly plug sockets in this place.”

“Or wifi, I’ll bet” said Owen.

Tosh shrugged, opening the laptop and beginning to type. “I mean, if we’re in earth orbit, I can easily hack into a network.” She frowned. Then her eyes widened. “...Wait” she said, typing furiously.

“What? What’s going on?” Owen tried to look over her shoulder to follow what she was doing.

“I’m not the only one logged in to Mainframe right now” she said. She looked as though she hardly dared to hope. “I’m not the only one using the software, either...” she frowned down at the code on her screen, eyes flicking from side to side as she skim-read. “Last log in was... apparently from an external device that the system doesn’t recognise, by user...” her eyes widened. “Gwen Cooper!”

“She’s alive!”

“Hopefully...” Tosh typed some commands into the terminal window, hope blooming in her chest. “Let me send a message, or... see if I can get a webcam link up... and – _no!_ ” she drew back, pressing her hands over her eyes. “Fuck!”

“What?” said Owen, but at the same moment he saw what was wrong; the screen had gone black.

“Out of power” said Tosh. “Sorry...”

“Wait, what about your...” Owen gestured. “Infinite dalek batteries? From the time locks?”

But Tosh shook her head. “It would take too long to disassemble the time locks and rewire the cells to power a laptop, even if I did have a soldering iron” she said. “Sorry.”

Owen nodded. “Okay. Um... can you use the PDA to log in?”

“Not to access the full functionality of Mainframe, no. And a video link would drain that battery too, but... _oh!_ ” her face lit up. “I _can_ trace the device that Gwen last logged in on, and look at the system logs to see what programs she was running.” Tosh frowned, typing on the PDA. “...Huh. Like I said, the device isn’t recognised by the system, but I’ll keep tracking its location. The software though...” Owen turned to look, and Tosh raised her eyebrows at him. “Huh. Eye-five software.”

“What?” he said. “The contact lenses?”

“Yeah.” She frowned. “Now, why would Gwen be using those?”

“Why did she even have those when the Hub got blown up?” said Owen. Then he rolled his eyes as Tosh gave him a look, realising at the same moment. “...Okay, I mean. I guess we’ve all borrowed the contact lenses for a bit of fun. Point taken.”

She laughed tearily. “Yeah.”

“But what do we do with this?” Gray put in. He’d been silently playing with the sword hilt all the while, hands nervously fidgeting with the leather wrapping. “We’re stuck here...”

Owen breathed out. “Yeah” he said, thinking. He looked between the two of them. They looked so tired, and he knew he must look the same; he certainly felt it, exhausted and in pain all the way down to his bones. He made a decision. “Well first of all, as long as we’re stuck here, we should all get some rest” he said. “No, don’t argue” he said, interrupting both their protests. “Doctor’s orders. We can sleep one at a time for a couple of hours each. Tosh, you first.” He smiled, rapping his knuckles gently on her forehead. “That big brain of yours needs sleep, especially if you’re planning to genius our way out of this. Gray and I will wake you if anything happens.”

She looked reluctant, as he gently took the PDA from her hands, but she did sag a little against his side, stifling a yawn. “Well, if you don’t mind...”

“We don’t” said Gray, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Tosh’s arm very lightly. “Go to sleep.”

Owen gave him a tense, grateful smile. “I promise, love. We’ll still be here when you wake up.”

* * *

John materialised on a bridge over a wide river, a city sprawling out on either side. London, he realised a moment later, squinting at the coordinates on the vortex manipulator. Same time as he’d left. Unimaginative. But he could work with that; he could go anywhere he wanted now, and any _when_ , and it felt _good._ The slight lurch of teleportation and the reshuffling of his senses afterwards were both familiar and exhilarating.

He paused as a red bus drove past, wind ruffling his hair. That was a point. Where should he go? He’d been trapped on this planet and this time for months now, without expecting a reprieve any time soon. John frowned down at the murky river water, thinking to himself.

He could certainly leave earth. It wasn’t as though he’d had a very good time here. He thought back to his travels in America. True to his word, he’d been to Las Vegas first, and he’d got bored quickly. Not to mention banned from practically everywhere; unfortunately it seemed to be a uniting factor in every time period, that casino security guards had no senses of humour.

Not that a ban would have stopped him, but he’d been bored anyway. So he’d stolen a car and driven through the desert – Death Valley National Park had been a bit of a let-down, it just hadn’t lived up to the murder-related expectations the name promised – and then to the west coast. He’d stayed in San Francisco for a while, fucking and drinking and getting high, stealing what he could because he could. It was a nice enough town, but soon enough he’d got bored of that too.

It had been the day the daleks came that had really made him want more. Seeing all those planets in the sky made him yearn for the universe, to get off this little rock and out there again. He’d nearly died, nearly been shot by blaster fire in the street before he blew up the dalek that had done it with a grenade. But how it had made his heart _race_.

And so he’d stolen a motorbike and driven out into the desert again; he’d heard this was where the government was hiding the aliens, and that was enough. So he drove, for days and days, until he reached Area 51.

His expectations were low by then, but he had heard there were aliens here, and besides, he thought that after so many months of obligate restraint – he thought this was the longest period he’d confined himself to sex with only humans, not that he’d had much choice in the matter – it was worth a shot at least.

When he got there, he’d found a UNIT base, all soldiers with cute little red hats. That was something, at least. So he’d knocked out the gate guard – he still had some of that lip-gloss – and broken in.

And that was when he’d picked up the distress beacon. He’d half contemplated not responding to it at the time; but then again, there never really was much chance of that. So of course he’d had to steal the helicopter and fly across the Atlantic at what he thought was Jack’s call, and the rest was very recent history.

 _Jack_. He’d slipped into calling him that in his head, even quicker than he’d slipped into calling himself _John_. He liked the name changes very much; it suited both of them, and they matched.

If John was being honest with himself, he missed him.

Which was why he’d been so embarrassingly quick to dash over here at his call for help. Or at least, what he thought was his call for help. It hadn’t crossed his mind that it might be anyone but Jack until he’d seen those three climb up into the helicopter without him.

Gray had been a nasty surprise. John had hoped to stay as far away from him as being trapped on the same planet for an indefinite period would allow, but he supposed he’d never had the best luck.

Gray deserved what he got, John assured himself, up to and including being trapped up there with those creatures. And as for the other two, well, they were collateral damage. He didn’t want to think about that place right now.

Besides, he thought, it wasn’t all bad. Jack was supposedly here in this very city. Suddenly John wanted to go see him more than anything, even if all that happened was that Jack told him to leave and never come back. Which he might be even more disposed to do when he learned that John had abandoned his friends and his brother to die on a spaceship.

He was fine with that too, he told himself. The only reason it bothered him was if Jack found out. Jack sending him away was really the only part that mattered. But even that was probably fine, John thought. He’d be okay leaving and never coming back, if only it was Jack that told him to.

Well maybe _okay_ was too strong a word, but it was the principle that mattered.

Maybe he’d go look for him, John thought. The only problem was, how to find Jack in this city? He turned in a full circle, looking all around him; the river stretched out in both directions. On one side he could see a building he recognised vaguely by sight: tall and pointy with a rather ugly clock tower. The houses of parliament, he knew; he’d seen it on the news. He made a face; he’d rather give the politicians a miss, frankly. He started walking along the bridge in the other direction, towards the south bank.

It was just one city, he thought. How hard could it be to find Jack?

Fifteen minutes later, John was wandering about amongst the warehouses on the south bank, and beginning to get bored. Maybe he should just leave, he thought. He could go anywhere he wanted now, and he could always find Jack another day.

And then a blue convertible rushed past along the road, with a very familiar figure in the driver’s seat. He’d know Jack anywhere, even from the passing glimpse he got as the car turned the corner opposite far too fast, disappearing into one of the small side-streets.

John felt a smile spread across his face, and started to follow.

After another ten minutes though, he had to admit he was lost. There were just too many small side-streets, old industrial buildings and train tracks and–

“Oi, mate! You lost or something?”

He looked up, seeing a gang of teenagers slouching against a wall. “Looking for a man” he said.

“Oh yeah? What man?”

“Tall. Um, jawline. Looks good enough to eat. Dresses like he stepped out of the porn version of the second world war.”

“...Ohhhh, _him_. Yeah, we seen him” said the oldest girl, giving John a look up and down with narrowed eyes.

John sighed, recognising the tactic. “Would this help your memory?” He handed her a small, flat grey rectangle; a fraudulent thousand galactic credits, but in his defense, a moderately good forgery.

She frowned, turning it over. “The fuck is it?”

“Drugs” said John. “Don’t finish it all at once, et cetera. Now where’s my guy?”

She shrugged, pocketing it. “Shoulder pads over there went in that place” she said, leaning around the corner and pointing with a thumb at yet another warehouse. She smirked. “Reckon that’s where he sees his clients.”

The other kid nodded. “That other bloke in the posh suit looked right nervous going in there. Looking all around him, checking no one was following.”

“Bet he works for the government” said the youngest boy, sagely. “Here, mister. Get us a picture of 'em at it, we sell it to the Daily Mail and split the profits if he’s someone famous, yeah? Fifty-fifty.”

“Sixty-forty” said John automatically. He felt a little proud of these industrious young people. He gave them a smile. “I’ll mull it over, call you back. Play nice, kids.”

And with that he pressed the button on his vortex manipulator. The last thing he saw was their astonished faces as he teleported away.

It was dark inside the entranceway to the warehouse; he could hear voices though, echoing upwards in the large space.

He pressed himself back into the shadows of the little vestibule while he listened, feeling triumph as he picked out Jack’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, and for a while it was enough just to listen. Then, intrigued, he peered out of his hiding place, seeing five figures clustered around a makeshift desk, staring at a laptop. None of them seemed to notice him, all too engrossed in what was happening on the screen.

And that really was _interesting_ , he realised as he watched.

Well, he thought. This might be a longer stay than he'd planned.

* * *

The quiet pressed in on Owen, as Tosh slept. Gray was awake too, staring blankly at the wall; if his eyes hadn’t been open Owen might have thought he’d fallen asleep too, but for the occasional blink.

At last Owen began to find the silence oppressive.

“Hey. Um. I’m not good at this but… I’m sorry I doubted you” he muttered, low enough not to wake Tosh, who was curled in the corner with Owen’s jacket draped over her like a blanket. He let himself stroke her hair very gently as he spoke to Gray. “I know you shot Tosh, but… you’re not so bad these days you know. And I misjudged you a bit, with...” he gestured. “All the telepathy stuff. Before we found out what was going on.”

“It’s okay” said Gray, turning to look at him. He looked a bit surprised, but had just the slightest hint of a smile. Owen found he could see the resemblance to Jack better when Gray smiled. “I suppose I _was_ acting pretty suspicious.”

“Still.” Owen smiled to himself too. “I should’ve listened to Tosh and trusted you sooner. You’ve done good so far.”

But Gray was shaking his head. “I’m not... like her. Or like you” he said. “Thank you, but you’re wrong about me... I’m not cut out to help save the world, and I never will be. All I can do is start to atone for what I’ve done.” He bit his lip. “I’m not one of you. I’m not Torchwood, and...” he leaned his head forward in his hands. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Owen rolled his eyes. He stared at Gray for a moment and tried to think of something cutting to say, but instead he just gave a deep sigh. “You gonna make me do this officially?”

Gray gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

“I’m second in command of Torchwood Three. That means when Jack’s not around, I’m in charge. So, I’m recruiting you.”

Gray looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I’m recruiting you as... hmm, Torchwood junior officer.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me. We can deal with the paperwork later. If we survive, that is.” With a grim smile, Owen reached out with the butt of his gun and tapped Gray on each shoulder. Gray only looked even more confused. “There you go... welcome to Torchwood, now you _are_ one of us. And as your commanding officer, my first order is to help us get out of here. And then, if possible, blow this whole ship sky high. But I’ll take what I can get at this point.”

“But...”

“That’s an _order_.”

Gray stared at him for a moment longer. “Okay” he said. He frowned, looking back up at Owen. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Ianto watched Jack standing alone for a few minutes, silhouetted against the grimy windows, before coming up to stand beside him. He let his eyes run over Jack’s face, his stance and the set of his jaw as he stared out across the warehouse. Ianto liked to think he’d become better at reading Jack these last months, but then nothing he thought he knew felt quite as certain as it had four days ago. Or even four hours ago for that matter.

He found himself scanning Jack’s face again, familiar and much-loved. Jack didn’t say anything, but there was a shift to his posture, a wordless acknowledgement that Ianto was there, that if they were to talk about what Ianto had found out in the night – about the children – then they may as well do it now.

They were so often doing that, the two of them; saying things without words, through small actions. It was how they operated, always had been.

 _Still_. Ianto swallowed. “This must’ve been eating away at you” he said. He could feel tears starting in his eyes but he ignored them, resolute. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”

“No you couldn’t.”

“I tell you everything.”

At this Jack turned to look him in the eye at last. “Yeah? So tell me, what should I have done?”

“Stood up to them” he insisted. “The Jack I know would’ve stood up to them.” Jack turned away from him again. Ianto concentrated on keeping his face neutral; he thought that if he didn’t, he might start crying and never stop. “I’ve only just scraped the surface, haven’t I?”

He saw Jack school his expression before turning back to him. “Ianto, that’s all there is.”

“No. You pretend that’s all there is.”

“I’ve lived a long time, I have... done a lot of things.” Jack stared at him for a moment, before turning to walk away. “I’ve gotta go, I won’t be long.”

Ianto couldn’t help rolling his tear-filled eyes as he turned back to go after him. “You’re doing it again.” Jack stopped but didn’t turn around, so Ianto addressed his back. “Speak to me, Jack. Where are you going?

Jack hesitated for a moment more, then turned back to him, an expression on his face that Ianto couldn’t read. “To call Frobisher. I can’t make the call from here, because they’ll be able to trace it. Is that _okay_?”

 _S_ _arcasm now_ , Ianto thought with a flash of annoyance. Well, maybe it was better than that flat, cold tone Jack had affected before. Ianto didn’t think he could listen to much more of that.

It wasn’t _much_ better though; he still felt like his chest was being cracked open as Jack frowned back at him. He wanted to pull Jack into his arms, to grab him by the braces and shake him. To stop time and talk this out, or failing that, to kiss him until he couldn’t remember the fact that the world was ending. But none of that was possible. “...You’re the boss” he said, forcing himself to nod calmly instead.

Jack took a breath. “And just so you know, I have a daughter called Alice and a grandson called Steven, and Frobisher took them hostage yesterday.”

Ianto opened his mouth, but no words came to him; he was caught off guard as much by the way Jack’s voice cracked as by what he’d said.

Not knowing what to say, he stayed silent as Jack turned around and walked out of the warehouse, leaving him alone.

For a long moment, Ianto simply stood there staring at the door Jack had closed behind him. He felt the heat of tears on his face, tears as much of weariness as anything else. More than anything else right now, he wanted to rest. To fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and leave all this fear and heartache to someone else. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. And so in this moment by himself, with the others busy or vanished, Jack near-literally closing the door in his face, Ianto let the tears run freely down his cheeks for a moment before thumbing them away in frustration.

It wasn’t really that Ianto was upset that Jack had a family; in retrospect, he thought, he’d have been more surprised if Jack didn’t have a few children and grandchildren around, with how long he’d lived and the way he was. And though he did feel a slight twinge of jealousy whenever Jack mentioned an old lover, he’d learned to ignore it, to let it go.

No, it wasn’t that, Ianto thought. It was that whenever he found out something like this about Jack, something that should have been huge, something that someone as close as Ianto was to Jack – as close as Ianto liked to think he was to Jack – should have known, it made his heart crack just a little. He couldn’t even put a finger on exactly why. It wasn’t like he’d known every single minor detail about Lisa’s life, and he’d been just fine with that then. It wasn’t even as though Ianto had been quite truthful when he said he told Jack everything; far from it. There were still so many things – important things, some of them – that he hadn’t told Jack. Not because he didn’t want to – though some he hadn’t found the courage to yet – but simply because he’d never got around to it.

But things like this… his mind went back to what they’d learned last night about Jack and the children, nineteen sixty-five. The fear in Clem’s expression, the vicious desperation with which he’d shot Jack dead. The measured coldness in Jack’s eyes as he confessed to what he’d done, belied by the desperate, almost childlike way he’d clung to Ianto’s arm as he’d gasped back to life on the concrete floor.

Ianto’s mind went back to his own words to Jack from only a few minutes ago.

_I’ve only just scraped the surface, haven’t I?_

Standing there like that, trying to pull himself together, Ianto almost missed the sound up amongst the steel beams behind him. It was quiet, the kind of sound that could easily have been a bird landing on the roof, or the wind rattling the edge of a loose panel.

Maybe it had been the way the last few days had been – the constant fear and running – that made Ianto turn around and look. But he did, squinting up at the ceiling, the shadows clustered around the rusted catwalk above and the rickety stairs that led to the roof.

As he turned, in the corner of his eye he thought he caught a flash of blue-white. But when he looked properly, there was nothing there.

Ianto shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands over his tear-damp eyes, pushing down hard until he saw lights burst behind them. He must be more tired than he’d thought.

Still, there was no help for it; he should go and help Gwen, he knew. With Jack gone again she and Rhys would need the extra hand, especially with Clem to worry about. Ianto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wiping the last of the tears away.

Sleep would have to wait until after they’d saved the world.

* * *

Tosh’s watch said it was morning; just coming up for 10am. But really it could be any time in this place and she’d never know any better.

She and Gray had been awake for the last twenty minutes as Owen took his turn to sleep.

Owen usually slept in fits and starts, she’d come to know. He’d told her it had started after he came back from the dead. Today though, he must have been as exhausted as the rest of them, because he hadn’t woken at all, curled up and leaning on her shoulder.

One of her hands was in his, their fingers laced together. Occasionally Owen squeezed them a little as he shifted in the midst of some dream.

On the other side of her was Gray, his legs drawn up close to his chest. “Owen made me a member of Torchwood” he told her after a while, with no preamble. “Says I’m one of you.”

She looked at him, surprised. “You’ve been one of us for a while now."

“No” said Gray. “I... I don’t think I was meant to save the world.”

“Well, you’re a new recruit. Maybe we can work up to that.”

She was rewarded with his rare, quiet laugh. They lapsed into companionable silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Gray? Can I ask you something?”

He looked at her. “Mmm-hmm?”

“What did you want back then?” asked Tosh. “When you were a child I mean. Did you ever think about the future?”

Gray looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “All those years I was captured?” he said. “I wanted to be dead, of course.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, completely unable to think of a response.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t think further than that. That was the ideal scenario, the only escape.”

She frowned, laying her free hand on the back of his clasped ones. “No, I mean... before that. When you were with your brother, and your parents” she said, trying to keep the pain pushing through her chest off her face. She laughed a little. “When I was that age, I wanted to be an astronaut. ...Also a bakery shop owning princess with a sword. And a cryptanalyst like my grandfather.” She smiled slightly. “Actually, I guess I did end up doing a bit of that last part in the end. I do decode things occasionally.”

“You also got the astronaut part, now” said Gray, glancing around them. “Sort of.”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah. I guess so.”

They were silent for another moment. “I wanted to be a sailor, back then” said Gray after a while. His eyes seemed to look far away. “We used to watch the freighters come in from deep space to the supply port around the bay. They’d come in and out of orbit over the ocean, and we all used to come to watch, all the kids from the peninsula. ...My brother wanted to join the time agency, to have adventures and keep people safe. But I thought it would be nice just to be a sailor, to ship out on a freighter and see the universe like that.” His brow furrowed. “Not to be any kind of hero. Just to travel, and to listen to all the stories along the way. That would have been enough for me.”

Tosh smiled. “Sometimes things don’t go the way we expect them to” she said softly. “Sometimes, the people who save the world aren’t the ones who ever wanted to.”

But Gray shook his head. “I’m never going to be the one that saves the world” he said. “And that kid that dreamed of sailing is gone too. They killed him, in that cell.” He shrugged. “But if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that I get to decide what to do with what’s left.”

“Yeah” she said, feeling tears slide down her face as she smiled. “Yeah, you do.” She laid her head against his shoulder as Owen turned in his sleep, time slipping past in the stillness around them.

* * *

Jack was struggling to keep his thoughts in some semblance of order and rationality as he turned his back on Ianto and marched out of the warehouse, shoving his hands into his coat pockets angrily.

The coat still felt a little stiff and unfamiliar, compared to his old one which had been soft and worn-in. But he was glad of it anyway; it made him feel at least a little more like himself. And of course, Ianto had got him this. Ianto always knew what he wanted, sometimes before Jack did himself, and made it his business to quietly give it to him.

(In time, Jack knew, this coat would be just as worn as his old one. In time, everything he had now would be dust, but he’d still be there, carrying on into the future without any of what surrounded him now. It was easier, anyway, to think about the objects than the people.)

Guilt tugged at him as he thought about Ianto, the look he'd had as Jack had turned away from him. Jack stomped along the alleyway behind the warehouse, concentrating on the feeling of his boots on the tarmac, one foot in front of the other; it was the only way he knew to keep himself turning around, going back to pull Ianto in his arms, tell him how sorry he was. Sorry for everything: for the way he’d been back there, for who he was as a person. For the way the universe was, for time and how one day it would separate them.

He couldn’t right now, though. He had to call Frobisher, to make sure Alice and Steven were okay. He had to confront the consequences of what he’d done in nineteen sixty-five.

The truth was, Jack didn’t want to face Ianto again yet. Not without having faced _that_ first. The words Ianto had said to him, the look on his face, had almost broken Jack. Ianto believed so fiercely in him; not that he was always right – god knew, Ianto had plenty of first-hand evidence to the contrary – but in the fact that it always was possible for Jack to be the better version of himself. That whatever his past sins, there was good too. That maybe it didn’t matter anyway, because either way Jack deserved to be loved.

That notion – and the open-eyed, implicit trust it spoke of – scared Jack more than he knew how to articulate.

He’d run away from much less in his time.

But he wasn’t running away now, he told himself as he made his way around the corner. _He just had to_ –

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

Jack pulled up short; lost in his own head, he hadn’t been looking where he was going and he’d almost collided with the man standing on the street corner.

And then he stared, the familiarity of the voice filtering through his distracted mind.

John Hart smiled back at him, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

“... _You_...”

“How’ve you been?” John said; his tone was an odd mix of his usual flirtation, and something that if Jack hadn’t known better he might have called nervousness.

Not that Jack felt like picking apart whatever that was now. Not after the day he’d had. He felt a sudden flash of blind fury, glaring down at John as his hand went out to grab him by the front of his jacket, lifting him almost off his feet and pushing him up against the wall. “ _What the hell are you doing here?_ ” he growled, low and dangerous.

John didn’t look in the least bit intimidated, Jack thought. “Checking in on you” he said, pouting. “Thankless task, I know, but...” he tried to shrug, pinned as he was.

Jack scoffed. “Like I’m gonna believe that.”

“Swear on my life! No, your life. ...One of your lives... um. Really, though” said John, staring up at him. His voice had softened a bit. “I owe you a favour. Several favours. For... everything, back then. And if I’m not mistaken you need all the favours you can get right about now.”

“I don’t want your help. I don’t need it.”

“I’ve got... information you might want to hear.”

For a moment, Jack was tempted. But then he imagined bringing John into the warehouse, the looks on Gwen and Ianto’s faces. All the ways it could possibly go wrong. “No” he decided. “I’m fine on my own. I know everything I need to.”

John frowned. “If you say so.”

Jack nodded. “I do. You bring too much trouble with you.”

“Time was, you liked that about–”

“ _Stop_.” Jack gritted his teeth; he couldn’t do this now. “Just... stay off my patch, okay?”

“And here’s me thinking your patch got blown up.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “How d’you know that?”

John shrugged. “Bloody great hole where your super secret spy base used to be.”

“You’ve been back to Cardiff?”

“I... gave it a look on the way past.”

“And then you came here.”

“...Indirectly, yeah.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Asked around” said John. “Look, are you going to let me help you, or not?”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, absolutely” said John. “That’s kind of the point of bargaining for secrets, hmm?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Say I listened to you. What do you want?”

“Well, for a start I want your assurances, first, that you’re not going to kill me... but other than that? Nothing.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Again, John shrugged. “These are weird times.”

Jack chuckled, bitter. “That’s true.”

“And I heard you fighting with your boy back there.” John grinned. He opened his arms. “If you ever wanted a break, I’m here...”

“Shut _up_ ” snarled Jack, twisting his hand in the front of John’s jacket. “We weren’t _fighting_.”

“Ooh, hit a nerve” said John. “Really though, offer’s always open. Eye-candy’s always welcome to join in too when he comes around to the idea of sacrificing a few children for the greater – _augh!_ ”

Jack twisted the cloth tighter, fist pressing down on the hollow at the base of John’s throat. “You’ve been _listening?_ ”

“A bit” admitted John. “Here and there...”

“How much do you know?” Jack stopped John before he could come out with another quip, pressing harder, “about what’s going on?”

John arched an eyebrow, suddenly serious. “More than you do” he said. “I know what’s doing this.”

Jack had to laugh. “Oh yeah? Well, so do I.”

“Uh, no. You really don’t.”

“I know all I need to” said Jack.

“Sure about that?”

“Absolutely.” Jack released his hand, letting John go. As John staggered and rubbed his throat, Jack noticed the flaky-dark blood that had dripped down from a cut under his chin and dried on the neck of his shirt. He wondered, despite himself, what John had been doing all this time, before firmly putting the speculation from his mind. He needed to concentrate. “Now go away, until all this is over” he said. Jack pointed down the street. “Now! Before anyone sees you.”

“ _Ohhh_ , I did miss that authoritative streak you get when I make you angry...”

“ _Leave._ ”

“Okay! Okay. Your loss and everything.” John smiled, taking Jack by the lapels and kissing him hard, before he could protest. He patted the side of Jack’s face. “See you later.”

Jack frowned, wondering if this was going to become a problem, and whether he should do something about it. “Where're you going?”

John didn’t look back, just waving a dismissive hand back at him. “None of your business.”

And then he turned away and walked around the corner.

Jack rolled his eyes, rushing to catch up; they were going in the same direction anyway, he’d have to–

But when he turned the corner himself he stopped, staring between the blank walls in confusion.

The alley was empty, and John had disappeared.


	18. Chapter 18

As he teleported away from Jack, John was self-aware enough to admit he was disappointed. In fact, he thought, some might even go so far as to call it upset.

He was, on the other hand, a little too proud to admit he was wavering when it came to deciding what to do next.

Still, he probably _did_ have to decide, he thought as he appeared on the bridge again.

The thing was, if he was really ready to just leave now, John thought – slightly annoyed with himself – then he would have already. He could go anywhere he wanted.

But instead he was here, standing on Westminster bridge and staring down at a police boat passing along the river below. Absently, he considered throwing one of the supply of micro blasting caps he kept in his inside pocket down at it, before deciding that no, he should probably save those. A little explosion like that would ring hollow anyway, after the day he’d had. He wanted something more substantive.

God, what was he turning into, John thought with slight desperation.

And that was when he noticed the piece of paper, taped to the nearest stone bridge parapet. It looked neater and newer than all the other scraps of removed flyers and stains from old gum on the stone, out of place against the dark grey.

It fluttered a little in the wind, the tape coming slightly loose.

On an impulse, John pulled off the tape and opened it. It was a handwritten note, dark blue ink against white paper.  
  


_Still want to help?  
51.491498034 -0.12166618 23:54:21 10/09/2009  
– JH ♡  
  
_

He traced the heart with the tip of his finger and frowned, thinking. It was certainly Jack’s handwriting; he’d know it anywhere, in any language, even though the way he’d written the space-time coordinates was laughably earth-centric these days.

He let his finger rest over the heart symbol again.

A quick glance up at the time on that big, conveniently-placed clock tower – Big Ben, he remembered it was called, which sounded more like someone’s porn name to John, but who was he to judge – and saw that the time was in a few hours. Tonight. Late. The spatial coordinates seemed to be just a little way off too, by the side of the river.

John craned up in the vague direction in question, wondered if this was a set-up. A moment later he decided it probably was, but he didn’t have anything better to do with his day than get set up, especially if Jack was involved. A moment later he realised that yes, he almost definitely did have better things to do; a whole universe of them in fact.

But, he realised the next moment, he wanted to do this one.

With a shrug, John folded the note carefully into his inner pocket, and began to program the coordinates into his vortex manipulator.

* * *

Gray was taking his turn to sleep, curled up in the corner. He was clutching the sheathed katana like it was a security blanket, silent and motionless.

Or almost motionless; Tosh could see his eyes flicker behind his eyelids occasionally. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

Owen’s voice broke into her speculation.

“That atmosphere out there” he said. He was standing in front of the window, looking out into the great curved panopticon, silhouetted against the slightly blueish haze. “Wonder what’s in it.”

She stood up and came to join him. “No idea” she said. “Any number of organic gases it could be, I suppose. Most of which are probably toxic.”

“Mmm” said Owen, looking thoughtful. “We’ve still got the two gas masks in the tool kit...”

“We are _not_ leaving Gray” she said firmly.

“What? No, I didn’t… Jesus, Tosh, that’s not what I meant!” He sighed. “I wouldn’t leave him. Not now, not after all this.”

“Oh” she said, smiling. “Sorry. I mean, good.”

“Yeah” Owen said, turning back to the window. “Poor kid’s had it hard, and he’s done some shit, but haven’t all of us? And I know he shot you, but then, there _was_ that time I shot Jack...” he looked pained. “ _Before_ knowing he wouldn’t die.”

“Mm” said Tosh, rubbing Owen’s arm with a slight smile. “Also that time Ianto shot you.”

“Exactly!” said Owen with a weary chuckle. “Everyone’s shooting each other left right and centre in this job. It’s fine.”

Tosh smiled. “He’ll fit right in as a member of Torchwood.”

“Yeah” said Owen, going serious again. “Plus, we’ll probably need him if we’re going to get out of this place.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve got an idea?”

“I’ve got part of an idea” he mused. “Maybe. I just thought, the gas masks... we could... I don’t know, take them apart. Make some sort of breathing device, get to whatever passes for a control room in this place. We still don’t know who these fuckers are, but maybe they’d pay attention to a gun being pointed at them.”

Tosh frowned. “We’d still need an oxygen supply” she said. “Gas masks filter air, they don’t produce it.”

His shoulders drooped. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I can’t think like this.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “I know the feeling.” Even with her short nap earlier she still felt wrung out, her mind empty of ideas.

They were silent for a moment, both staring out the window.

“Owen?”

“Hmm?”

“Say your idea worked. Say we got out of this cell, out into the ship. What then?” said Tosh, frowning. “What do we _do_?”

Owen bared his teeth. “Ideal scenario? One, we blow this whole fucking ship out of the sky, or disable it somehow… anything to stop these _negotiations with the human race_. Two, make them operate their teleport to get us out of here the same way as they brought us in.” He looked down. “…There’s one order for those things that’s much better for us than the other, but I don’t know if we’ll get the chance to be picky.”

“Blowing up the ship does sound good” admitted Tosh, electing to ignore the other part of what he’d said for a moment. Not that she _was_ _n’_ _t_ prepared to die to save the world from... whatever this was. But the prospect of it was more of a distraction than she needed right now. Best to focus on practicalities. “Difficult though. ...How would we even get the firepower?”

“I don’t know” Owen admitted. He put his hand on the glass again; it left a slight, warm mist there, around where it made contact. “That was why I was wondering what the hell this atmosphere was. If it’s some sort of hydrocarbon cocktail, it might be combustible.”

She raised an eyebrow, the implications of combustion of the entire atmosphere inside the ship not lost on her. She frowned, trying to think logically. “Would a species that evolved to breathe a combustible atmosphere even develop electrically powered technology though? Because clearly they have, but you’d think the risk would be...” she broke off. “Wait, never mind. If there’s no oxygen out there, then there’s no risk of a spark sending the whole thing up.”

“Yeah” said Owen. He was frowning, laying a hand on her shoulder as he looked around their cell. “I’ll tell you where there _is_ oxygen, though...”

Tosh sucked in a small breath. “In here.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent for a moment; Tosh was sure Owen’s mind was filled with similar images to her own. “I don’t want to die, Tosh” Owen said, after a moment. He sounded a little strangled, “Not again. And more than that… I don’t want _you_ to die. Dying’s shit, and you don’t fucking deserve that. But...”

She nodded, taking his hand in her own and turning it over. “I know” she said, biting her lip. There was that _but_ , that might have to become a very real prospect soon. “Owen–”

And then she was interrupted as Gray sat bolt upright, eyes wide and wild, letting out a strangled cry.

* * *

“ _Three, two, five, zero, zero, zero. Three, two, five, zero, zero, zero._ ”

Gwen swallowed the foreboding threatening to choke her as she forced herself to look away from Clem and back to the computer screen.

“Coordinates, a grid reference maybe?” Rhys was saying, as she ran a search on the numbers.

She shook her head as the progress bar ticked up to 100%, the list of results sprawling out. “Ianto, take a look at the news while I do this, will you?”

“Already done” he said, pulling up the live feed on the other screen. “It’s... a different number in each country. Let me just–” he broke off. “Gwen. Jack.”

“Hmm?” her mind was halfway occupied clicking on the first result of thousands, and so it took her half a second to notice how shocked his tone was. And then another, before her own computer display twisted and warped, turning to static. “...What?” she said, peering over to where Jack had come to lean over Ianto’s shoulder and stare at the screen. His was the same, crackling with static. “Ianto, what’s happened?”

“Don’t know” said Ianto, pressing a few keys in quick succession, brow creased with frustration as nothing happened. “I didn’t do this!”

“ _Three, two, five, zero, zero, zero._ ”

“It’s like some sort of signal swamping our connection” said Jack. “Or taking over our bandwidth... but it’s not a signal. It’s all noise.”

Gwen bit her lip. _Tosh would know_ , she almost said, before quieting herself. They had to trust that Tosh was okay, wherever she was. After they’d done this, then they could worry about the others.

“So we trace the interference” she was aware of Jack saying, fingers clicking on the keys as Ianto moved to the side, giving him space. “We can at least get the frequency range, and... oh. _Oh_.”

“What?” Rhys said. “What’s happened?”

Jack looked up, staring around at all of them. “ _Four five six_ ” he said, dread on his face. “They didn’t use children to communicate before.” He pointed at the screen. “They used signals, directly. Just plain old radio then, but...”

“...We’ve updated our tech since nineteen sixty-five” Ianto finished. “So they updated too.”

“Bloody hell” said Rhys, staring into the signal. “That’s _them_? They’re overriding the signal? But that means...”

“They know we’re watching. Yeah” said Jack shortly.

Gwen could still hear Clem’s voice, in the background. “ _Three, two, five, zero, zero, zero._ ”

“Well, we need to try and override it” Gwen said, ignoring the implications of this. “We’ve got to get Lois back. That conversation in the cabinet room...” she felt a little nauseous as she thought over what they’d heard; the people in power, bargaining with the lives of the country's children like they were nothing more than trade goods. “We’ve got to see what’s–” she broke off, and gasped, reaching out for Rhys’s hand involuntarily.

The static had formed into an image.

A square room with blank white walls and floor, seen from above in grainy black and white.

In the room were three figures, dark against the pale floor.

Tosh, Owen, and Gray.

Gray seemed to be half sprawled on the floor, half curled up with his hands over his head, but what little she could see of his face was contorted with agony. Owen was trying to speak to him, hands moving fast and staring desperately around as though for inspiration.

Tosh was holding one of Owen’s hands and one of Gray’s, and even on the grainy video feed Gwen could see she was crying, her face shiny with desperate tears.

“Oh, my god” said Rhys. “That’s...”

His words fell into silence, finally, as they all watched. Gwen darted a look at the others; Ianto looked shocked, eyes wide. Jack’s face, on the other hand, had gone utterly blank, as though someone had turned him to brittle stone.

“This isn’t the government. This is _them_ ” Jack said, low and dangerous and full of hatred. Gwen knew, without quite knowing how, exactly what he meant.

“I told you” said Clem. The voice speaking through him had fallen silent, and he’d come up very tentatively to stand beside Gwen. She laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles there when he didn’t flinch away. “I told you they knew I was watching.”

But Jack shook his head. “More likely they knew _I_ was watching. Or all of us were.”

“But what _was_ that?” asked Rhys.

“A message” said Jack, bitterly. “Or, more like a threat. Don’t rock the boat or yet another person you love dies. Or three, in this case.” His voice sounded almost flat, weary. “ _God_ I’m sick of being offered that choice.”

Ianto was frowning. “There must be a way to get them back” he said. “Otherwise there’d be no incentive for us to stay quiet and compliant. Which is the point, I assume.”

“Unless they’re bluffing” said Gwen. “We don’t know anything about that video feed. It could have been fake, or old.” She swallowed, not wanting to believe it. “They could be dead by now.”

“Or they could be alive” said Jack. There was a kind of quiet, suppressed rage in his expression, every muscle in his body tense. “And as long as we don’t know one way or the other, they’re banking on us not risking moving against them.”

Gwen breathed out. He was right, she knew. “Well, then let’s not give them what they want” she said. As she said it the static on the screen began to dissipate, the display returning to normal. On it was the feed from the contact lenses, and she was glad to see it was still recording. “...I hate to say it, but I think the only chance we have to save Tosh, Owen, and Gray, is if we _keep_ rocking the boat. Harder than before. Put an end to this once and for all.”

Ianto sighed. “I agree” he said slowly, darting a glance at Jack. “Even if they get what they want, it doesn’t seem likely they’ll just give us back our friends. On the other hand, if... if they kill them now, they lose their leverage.” He bit his lip, and Gwen could see what the words were costing him. “It’s a risk, but we need to carry on fighting.”

Jack sighed, nodding. “You’re right. And the way to do that is through the people doing the negotiating. The politicians, the civil servants.”

Gwen looked back to the monitor. In the cabinet office they were still debating; she caught the phrase “... _official policy, our families get protection_.”

“’Course they bloody do” she muttered, feeling her fury rise up again.

“They’re going to _vote_ on it?” said Ianto, voice full of the same revulsion she was feeling.

“Seems that way” said Jack, leaning forward. “C’mon. Let’s just watch for the moment. Wait to see what they decide.”

It was hard to watch. For all the murderous aliens and human killers and death and callousness she’d seen in her time with Torchwood, Gwen had never had to sit and watch anything quite like this. When she looked over at Rhys she saw there were tears in his eyes. She reached out, squeezing his hand in hers as best she could, but her own eyes were dry. If before, she’d thought something like this might make her cry, now she knew the truth. She was too furious to cry.

 _Is_ _this really the world_ _our_ _baby_ _w_ _ill_ _be born into?_ Gwen found herself thinking, lacing her fingers through Rhys’s under the table. Jack had told her something once; the twenty-first century was when everything changed. She hadn’t known what he’d meant then, and she didn’t now. But _this_ … Gwen frowned. Now she thought of it, human history was full of people in positions of power debating the continued survival of the young, the poor, the vulnerable, from a safe place of their own.

From where she was sitting, it didn’t seem like anything had changed at all.

At long last the meeting ended, the cabinet room clearing. The five of them sat in the echoing silence of the warehouse as they watched people file out on the screen, no one knowing what to say.

Gwen was the one to break the silence. “We’ve got enough evidence recorded here to destroy every person in that room” she said, slightly incredulous. She didn’t know if that would solve the larger problem – or indeed, help them find Tosh, Owen, and Gray – but at least it was something.

“And we can use it to force our way into Thames House” said Jack. “Finally get face to face with this thing.”

“And get your family released” said Gwen, looking up at him, remembering what Ianto had told her earlier. With everything else that had happened, she was a little ashamed to admit she’d almost forgotten. “And hopefully, the others too.” She frowned, thinking of that blank white cell. “Wherever they are.”

Jack only sighed. “Everyone know what they’re doing?”

Gwen frowned, a different problem occurring to her. “What if I can’t get Lois to agree to this, Jack?”

“She hasn’t let us down yet. Rhys, okay?”

Rhys nodded, as Ianto came back from across the warehouse with the last of their ammunition. He passed Jack one of the clips, keeping the other for himself.

Gwen watched them exchange a look that seemed to have more behind it than she could read, as Jack holstered his gun.

“Let’s go stand up to them” said Jack at last.

“Yes, sir.”

And with that the two of them turned away, leaving Gwen alone with Rhys and Clem.

* * *

After it had passed, Tosh held Gray for what seemed like hours as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“I don’t want to do this anymore” he muttered, into her jacket. “Every time it's worse, and it tears me open a little bit more, and I... I can’t… I want it to _end_.”

“Gray...”

“It _hurts_ , Toshiko” he told her, voice cracking. “I don’t want to be like this… I want... I want to die...”

She stroked his hair, heart breaking. But in the moment she had no idea what to say.

Which was why she was surprised to hear Owen speak, standing over the two of them beside the window.

“No” said Owen. “Stop it.”

“Owen” said Tosh warningly.

But he was standing up, staring down at both of them. He seemed to have come to a decision, standing there with his arms folded resolutely. “We’re gonna figure out how to get off this ship” he said, decisive. “Gray. Look at me.”

“ _Owen!_ ” said Tosh. “Just give him a moment...”

But Gray was looking up at Owen, pushing the hair off his forehead and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Owen nodded. “Good” he said, face softening a little. “Now, we need to think rationally about this. Is there anything else you know, Gray, that could help?”

“Um. Well, I–”

But he was interrupted by a blue-white flash of light in the centre of the cell.

They all started, whirling around to see John Hart standing in front of them again.

“Well, hi” he said. “So, about that last time, I know you’re probably very mad, but don’t–”

“Shut up” growled Owen, pulling out his gun and pointing it at John before he was even finished his sentence. “I’ll kill you–”

John sighed, rolled his eyes and pulled his own gun, pointing it back at Owen. “Oh, this again? Really?”

By this time, Tosh had scrambled to her feet and had her own gun out, Gray picking up the katana from the floor and pointing it at John. But she frowned, as she finally took in John’s appearance.

There were two things that were different to the last time she saw him. First of all, he had a black eye on his left side; it looked faded, brown and yellow like the bruise was a few days old. She was sure he hadn’t had that when he left them here.

Second, that when he had drawn his gun he’d had to drop something on the ground; a shoulder bag, like a very large, overstuffed holdall. It had clattered a bit as it had fallen, but now it sat on the floor, looking incongruous.

She didn’t have time to think about it though, with Owen glaring, circling John. “Tell me” he said, “why I shouldn’t shoot you right now for fucking _leaving_ us here.”

John gave a put-upon sigh. “You _could_ ” he said. He gestured to the bag. “But then, you wouldn’t be able to get out of here.”

“Fuck you” spat Owen. “You just came here to bloody taunt us, didn’t you–”

“I wish” said John, gesturing with his gun at the bag. “That sounds fun, but no, unfortunately, I’m here for an actual reason.” He turned to Tosh. “You seem a little more likely to listen.”

“Depends on what I’m listening to” she said grimly, leveling her gun at him.

He rolled his eyes, pushing the bag towards her. “Or not, then. Point is, go ahead and open it.”

Tosh exchanged a glance with Owen, and then with Gray. Slowly, trusting them to keep her covered, she got down to her knees and unzipped the bag.

Her eyes widened as she saw the contents. “What is this? Why did you bring us this?”

“What do you think? To blow up the ship and get you out of here, of course.”

“Why?” she said. “Why are you helping us now?”

John gave another deep sigh, counting on his fingers. “One, I like blowing shit up. Two... I have a debt to repay. And three, I made a series of decisions – mostly based on boredom – that eventually led me to this point. Now, can we hurry up and get this done? You can murder me or whatever when we’re back on the ground. This place creeps me out.”

Tosh glanced at Owen, then at Gray, then back down to the bag again.

And she lowered her gun. “Right” she said. “Like he said. Let’s get this done.”

* * *

By the time they reached floor thirteen of Thames House, it was beginning to grow dark outside.

Jack stood shoulder to shoulder with Ianto in front of the great glass tank, lit by glowing blue. He couldn’t see much, but he could see _something_ moving in there, amid the mist. He felt a stab of revulsion followed by guilt as he thought back to the video feed he’d seen. _What they did to the child_ …

The child _he’d_ handed over.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen again.

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness” he told the creature in the tank. “I’ve dealt with you lot before. I’m here to explain why this time, you’re not getting what you want.”

“YOU YIELDED IN THE PAST” said a voice; deep and almost human-sounding but just a fraction _off_ , a hint of distortion from the translator filtering.

“And don’t I know it” said Jack. He had to own this at last, he knew. No more hiding. Perhaps it was superficial but he was glad Ianto was here with him. Both as a comfort, and because he wanted Ianto to _see_ ; wanted him to see that Jack was better than the disappointment in Ianto’s face when he’d learned about the children. Jack wanted to show Ianto that yes, he could be the man Ianto thought he was. The thing was, Ianto made him _want_ to be that man, to really be him forever and never look back.

But first he needed to confront what had gone before.

“I was there” Jack continued. “In nineteen sixty-five. I was part of that trade. And that’s why I’m never gonna let it happen again.”

There was a faint, electrical hum. “EXPLAIN.”

“There’s a saying here on earth. A very old, very wise friend of mine taught me it. ‘ _An injury to one is an injury to all_ ’. And when people act according to that philosophy, the human race is the finest species in the universe.”

“Never mind the philosophy” broke in Ianto. “What he’s saying is, you’re not getting one solitary, single child. The deal is off.”

Jack turned to Ianto. “Uh, I liked the philosophy.”

“I gathered.”

“YOU YIELDED IN THE PAST. YOU WILL DO SO AGAIN.”

“In the past the numbers were so small they could be kept secret, but this time, that is not gonna happen. Because we’ve recorded everything. All the negotiations, everything the politicians said, everything that happened in this room. And those tapes will be released to the public. Unless you give me back my brother and my friends, and leave this planet for good.”

“YOU YIELDED IN THE PAST. YOU WILL DO SO AGAIN.” The same words, repeated.

When people kept repeating themselves in an argument, Jack thought, it meant they’d run out of ways to argue. Plus, it was annoying. He frowned. “When people find out the truth, you will have over six billion angry human beings taking up arms to fight you. That might be a fight you think you can win... but at the end of it, the human race in defense of its children will fight to the death. And if I have to lead them into battle, then I will.”

“You’ve got enough information on this planet” Jack heard Ianto say. “Check your records. His name is Captain Jack Harkness. Go back a hundred and fifty years, and see what you’re facing.”

The sheer faith Ianto had in him tugged at Jack’s heart; it was all he could do not to pull Ianto into his arms right there and just hold onto him, like he’d never ever let go.

But no. Later. They had to fix this first. They had to see it through.

There was a short silence in response to Ianto’s words. “THIS IS FASCINATING, ISN’T IT? THE HUMAN INFANT MORTALITY RATE IS TWENTY-NINE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT DEATHS PER DAY. EVERY THREE SECONDS, A CHILD DIES. THE HUMAN RESPONSE IS TO ACCEPT AND ADAPT.”

Jack clenched his jaw, holding firm. “We’re adapting right now. And we’re making this a _war_.”

There was a short pause in the wake of his words.

“THEN–”

But the voice broke off as an explosion shook the building. Jack felt it more than heard it; it sounded like a deep sonic boom, a rolling vibration that knocked him off balance, stumbling sideways against Ianto who was reaching back for him, the two of them clutching each other’s arms to stay upright.

And then, the creature in the glass tank began to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you appreciate how many times I had to watch The Scene™, emotionally ruining myself in the process, to get the dialogue in the last part. I wanted it in there in full because it's important (both in general, and to stuff later in this fic) but holy shit guys, it's GOOD but Children of Earth is also SUCH a bleak, upsetting series.... I'm sad about all of it :(((  
> Anyway yes shorter chapter this time but I did the splitting up thing again, because otherwise it would have been way too long, and this was a good break point. But basically it means you get this slightly early update, and hopefully another one very soon!  
> 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of programming notes before I start:  
> \- I forgot to do one of these last time (oops, sorry!) but for your reference, this chapter and the next one take place over the night of [Day Four](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Four_\(TV_story\)) and the early hours of [Day Five](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Five_\(TV_story\)).  
> \- The plot does take place in a slightly nonlinear way (because, apparently, there are just so many goddamn characters when everybody is alive, therefore a lot of plotlines for me to juggle) but hopefully it's clear what's happening when!  
> \- The most frequent question I get asked about this fic is along the lines of "will [character] survive/end up happy? I want them to!" This is a super valid response, but rather than answer it lots of times, let me issue a blanket statement, in case it wasn't clear; the answer is yes, all the canon characters we know and love will end this fic alive and happy. That shouldn't be a spoiler at this point, but I think it does bear stating outright. There will certainly be angst and upset along the way, but please rest assured that I started writing this fic as my own personal antidote to a canon that feels like it doesn't let its characters have anything good, let alone us the fans for getting invested in them. I love Torchwood, but sometimes it feels so incredibly bleak (especially CoE) and sometimes that's just not the kind of narrative I want, especially at a time like this. So consider this fic as my own personal remedy for that, and would ask you to please trust me on this!  
> \- Enjoy the chapter my dear friends!

_**[Two hours earlier]** _

Tosh looked around at the others. “Right. Everyone know what the plan is?”

Owen nodded. It was difficult to see through the plastic goggles of his hazmat suit, but Tosh thought he was smiling, if a little tensely. He balled up the empty holdall and threw it aside, hefting the small oxygen tank and strapping it to his back.

“The teleport can carry two extra people. So, John takes you and Gray to the centre of whatever passes for a vent system in this ship, where, presumably, these fuckers keep a compressed supply of gases to maintain both their atmosphere, and the oxygen they need to keep human prisoners alive.” He held up the list that had been in the bag, with the four state-of-the-art hazmat suits and the oxygen cylinders; the document had clearly been stolen from some official file or other, the classified stamp across it half torn off where it had been ripped carelessly from a ring binder. Tosh hadn’t asked John about that; she had a feeling she’d find out eventually.

“We were right” Owen said. “The stuff out there is a mix of toxic gases, but it contains...” he wrinkled his nose, “hydrogen cyanide and acetone. Both of which are combustible. So we introduce oxygen to the air circulation system, let it flood the vents and mix with the flammable gases all over the ship, set off a spark, and...” he gestured, “... _boom_.”

Tosh nodded. “Courtesy of the timed micro blasting caps John brought.” She opened her gloved hand, peering down at them. One appeared to have a piece of pocket lint stuck to it. “Are you sure these are still good?”

John gave her a slightly injured look. “Are you implying I keep explosives long enough that they pass their sell-by date?”

“…Point taken.” Tosh nodded, closing her fingers back over the tiny greyish disks in her hand, each no bigger than her smallest fingernail.

“Right. Well, while you and John and Gray do that – bouncing about the vent system by vortex manipulator to set the network of charges and their timer – I wait at an intersection and watch for danger.” He frowned. “Not much I can do for you if there _is_ danger, but...”

“It’ll be fine, Owen” said Tosh, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

“Sure I can’t come with you? Gray could be lookout.”

But Gray was shaking his head gravely. “I know this kind of ship” he said, frowning a little. “And... I want to help.”

“It’s true” said Tosh. “We need him.”

“I’d gladly volunteer myself to not come with you” added John, “but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go off on your own with this.” He tapped his vortex manipulator which was strapped over the hazmat suit, the thick rubberised cloth rumpled beneath it.

“It’ll be _fine_ ” said Tosh again. “Next part of the plan?”

“Then, you find the oxygen supply for the cells; should be a massive great tank, the amount of human-breathable air they’d need if all these were full” said Owen, glancing nervously out of the window at the other cells. “Open the pump, or break it. Let the oxygenated air mix with what they’re breathing, to make a combustible mixture. Then, set the timer for the charges for a few minutes – plenty of time for the gases to mix nicely – and get the hell out of there, fast as you can. Oh, and don’t forget to pick me up on your way” he said, raising his eyebrow at John warningly.

“If you’re polite” said John, grinning.

“Oh, if you don’t go back for him I’ll show you what _polite_ can do” said Tosh through gritted teeth, giving John a warning look.

He backed off, raising his hands. But a smile was playing around his mouth. “You people are just full of surprises. I can see why Jack keeps you around” he said.

“ _Anyway_ ” said Owen, pointedly. “Um. Obligatory boring safety notice: if you even _think_ you’re suit’s sprung a leak, we’re out; back to earth to fix it. _No_ excuses. No _just-let-me-do-this-one-thing_ , no _I’ll-only-be-two-minutes-I-can-hold-my-breath_. Your suit gets damaged, you’re _out_ of there.”

“We know” Tosh reassured him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

Owen still looked unhappy. “Just... be careful” he said, squinting nervously at the list again. He shook his head as he read. “Nitrosyl chloride, hydrogen chloride, nitrogen... oh, bloody hell, flourine, hydrogen cyanide, acetone, and phosgene. ...Basically, you _really_ don’t want to be breathing that shit.”

“Trust me, we’re not planning on it” said John, grimly. He shook his head, picking at his hazmat suit. “The things I do for Jack.”

“So you _are_ doing this for him, then?” said Tosh, turning to him and raising her eyebrow.

“...Amongst others” he told her, winking at her evasively; the effect was slightly ruined by the limited view of the hazmat suit goggles, and his black eye beneath. “...Look, can we just get this over with? I’ve got something I want to get back to.”

“Okay” she said. “But once we’re back on the ground, I want an explanation.”

“And I want to knock his block off” put in Owen. He nodded at John’s black eye. “Whoever did that was onto something good.”

John looked affronted. “Now that’s just mean.”

“You bloody _left_ us!”

“This _again?_ ” John rolled his eyes. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“’s why you’re not dead already” muttered Owen darkly. “But if you bring Tosh and Gray back safe, I might not even break your nose.”

“Oh, _well_. I live in suspense” John said, deadpan.

“Well then” said Tosh hastily. She looked around at the others; Gray standing tense and rigid in the corner, still clutching John’s katana; John with one hand on his hip, pretending to inspect his vortex manipulator in a bored sort of way; Owen checking over the valves of his oxygen tank one last time. She forced herself to smile, though she supposed it was mostly hidden by her suit. “Shall we go?”

* * *

Tosh took only a moment to catch her balance, shaking off the disorientation as her senses adjusted to being teleported to a new place. They had emerged in a corridor, blank silver walls and a ceiling too high, all the proportions wrong for the place to have been designed with humans in mind. The air seemed to swirl thickly around them, blue-white and hazy.

John let go of Tosh and Gray, then disappeared and appeared again a moment later with Owen. They all took a moment to get their bearings, looking around; they seemed to be at some sort of intersection, where several sets of corridors crossed. But the hallways were empty in every direction for the little distance they could see.

“Right” said Owen, eyes darting around. His voice was a little distorted by the comm system built into the suit. “Well. See you then.”

Tosh nodded, wishing she could just lean forward and kiss him, if they were to do this. No, she thought. Later, once this was over.

Instead she nodded at him, touching the back of his gloved hand briefly with her own. “Let’s finish this.”

The corridor was oddly silent, the sound of their footsteps on the unidentifiable metal of the floor muffled by the suits. The light in here was dimmer than Tosh was comfortable with; she wondered if these creatures – whatever they were – might see in a different frequency spectrum than humans and thus might be able to see through the haze, before putting such speculation from her mind. It didn’t help to dwell on the idea that there could be other eyes watching them, from further away than their own vision stretched.

The sooner they were out of here the better, Tosh thought.

After a little while she found what she was looking for, raising her hand. “ _Stop_.”

Gray and John came to a halt beside her, as she saw a grating on the side of the tunnel. She stared up at it; it came to about the height of the top of her head. John might have to stoop a little, and Gray a lot.

She wondered if it was designed as a narrow crawlspace, for a different species.

As the others watched, she got down to one knee and unzipped her rucksack, selecting a spanner since there were no visible screws. The tool felt clumsy in her hands as she slotted it in behind the panel, pulling with all her strength to lever it slowly back.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t just teleport there” she heard Gray say.

“I told you” said John wearily. “I don’t have coordinates, and I don’t know the layout of this place. Do you really want to teleport inside a wall? Wait, I’ll answer that; no, you really don’t.”

“Have you actually _done_ that?”

“I mean. It was mostly Jack’s fault. And in our defense, we were pretty drunk at the time...”

She heard Gray make a noncommittal noise, shuffling from foot to foot as he glanced around, only half listening. She didn’t blame him for being nervous; god knew, he certainly had more reason than any of the rest of them.

“There we go!” They all jumped at the clatter as the panel came loose at one edge, too loud even in this quiet place. “Right. Into the vent” Tosh said. The others wasted no time in following her, and she set the panel back in place behind them as best she could. Hopefully, if someone was passing they wouldn’t notice the bent edge of the metal.

The were met, however, with a blank metal wall only a few feet ahead. At the same time, their eyes went upwards, following a ladder of too-large rungs that led up a vertical shaft extending far above. She looked over at John. “We can see where we’re going now. Up there.”

John nodded. “Also, I don’t feel like climbing...” he said, looping an arm through each of theirs and teleporting them away.

Tosh nearly lost her balance on the slightly tilted floor as they appeared again, but she managed to catch herself, Gray holding out his arm to help her. When she got her bearings again she found they were on the very lip of the shaft, which extended downwards from the centre of a chamber shaped like an upside-down pyramid, the floor tilting upwards to four walls, each with grated doors set in them.

“Looks like some sort of maintenance tunnel network” said Gray.

Tosh drew a breath. “Well” she said. “Guess we’ll have to pick a direction, and see where it leads.”

* * *

Owen paced nervously around the corridor, peering around. It hadn’t actually been very long at all, but it felt like an interminable stretch of time he’d been here on his own. The suit was uncomfortable, too large, too warm, and slightly humid from his breath, smelling strongly of rubber. On top of all that his gunshot wound was starting to hurt again, less like a sharp tearing sort of pain and more of a warm, insistent ache, throbbing unpleasantly with each beat of his pulse; he suspected it was almost definitely infected, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. If they got out of this alive he’d try to get his hands on some antibiotics, right after he’d punched John in the face.

Still, it did nothing to detract from the general sense of unease he felt all alone in this place. So far he hadn’t seen anyone else at all, alien or otherwise, which was not as reassuring as it should have been.

Finally he couldn’t take it any longer; he pressed the button to activate the comms set into his suit. “Tosh? How’s it going?”

“Owen! It’s okay, just... huh... just getting this hatch open...” Owen heard a grunt of effort and a metallic clatter, followed by the sound of footsteps. “I don’t know how long it’ll be but hopefully we can be out of here soon.”

“Good.” He let out his breath slightly. “Well, just carry on with–”

And then an alarm started blaring, deafeningly loud all around him. Lights were flashing all along the corridor, a garish shade of mauve that left blinding streaks across Owen’s vision. “Tosh!” he gasped. “Tosh, something’s happened–”

“Shh, Owen, it’s okay!” he heard Tosh say. A slight pause, and muffled voices. “Gray thinks they must have just realised we’re not in the cell anymore.”

“Mmm, not encouraging...”

“Shh, you’ve got to stay quiet, okay? We’re fine, they haven’t got us. But you’re out in the open. You need to find a place to hide if they come looking.”

Owen’s eyes darted around, seeing nothing but blank walls. “I’ll... I’ll manage” he said, not wanting to worry her unduly. “Just... do what you gotta do and hurry back, okay?”

“...Owen, are you–?”

“I’m _fine_!” he snapped. “No, really... I’m fine. Promise.”

“...Okay.” He could hear the frown in her voice. “Love you, Owen. Be safe.”

“You too” he choked out, before the connection cut out.

* * *

Tosh worked fast to get the next hatch door off, her fingers slippery with sweat inside her thick gloves as the alarms blared far below. She could hear her heartbeat, loud in her ears.

Finally, with Gray’s help, the grating had come loose.

And the three of them found themselves looking into an enormous chamber, filled with pumps and tubes and valves. Layer upon layer of them, all linked by an intricate network of service platforms and gantries. Tosh stared up at it all, slightly in awe; the whole place was shaped like a rounded-edged icosahedron. At least the size of the Torchwood Hub if not bigger, the space extending up and up. Each triangular wall was covered with a myriad of gratings and ducts and fans, pumping the swirling blue-white poison to every part of the ship.

She smiled. “Looks like we’ve found what we’re looking for” she said.

It didn’t take them as long as she’d feared to set the charges; between John teleporting them to the right points in the various tunnel mouths, it was easy enough to get the minute blasting caps in position.

When they were done, they stood in the centre of the chamber together, staring up amongst the pipes and vents.

Tosh frowned, already thinking several steps ahead; surely some of these pipes led from the oxygen tank.

But she had to check something first. She turned to John.

“Do you have the coordinates saved, for the right point on earth? The PDA should still be tracking the location of that laptop, so you can put them in from there directly and get us right back to–”

“–To the rest of your little team, I know” said John. “We’ve been through this.”

She nodded. “Right. Let’s find this thing, break it open, and get out.”

* * *

Owen was still pacing, the alarm loud and distracting, when he saw the shape moving in the haze. His breath caught in his chest as he ducked around the corner, peering back around.

Amongst the flashing lights in the mist, he could see the outline of... something. At least eight feet tall, lumpen and oddly proportioned. Where the mist faded and swirled, he could see strange, insectile hooks, shiny with a clinging layer of some viscous fluid.

He stifled the noise of revulsion that threatened to rise up out of his throat, watching the creature warily. It seemed to be turning this way and that, twitching a little; even though its motions were so deeply alien, Owen thought it looked for all the world like it was searching for something.

He grimaced, trying to breathe silently despite the heavy equipment. He had a pretty good idea what it was looking for. If it found him then maybe he could at least distract it for a moment, making it chase him around for a while to buy the others some time.

For now though, he pressed his back against the wall, wishing for the first time since he’d been brought back to life that his heartbeat wasn’t quite so loud.

* * *

“I think I’ve found it!” said Tosh as she hauled herself up a too-large ladder rung, to a valve with several settings. She squinted at the markings on the dial; it wasn’t a language she could read but it had a common notation on it that she knew, denoting the atomic structure of oxygen in a way understood by to much of the universe beyond their own solar system. A pair of the symbols in fact, linked by a single line; O2. She grinned in triumph; there didn’t seem to be any sort of locking mechanism. She frowned though, as she ran her hand over the levers that opened the tap. First of all, she’d need a much larger wrench than she had to open the valve, let alone to break the heavy pipe and let the oxygen flow out.

She was just contemplating shooting it open (bad idea, she decided; could send the whole thing up with them still inside) when she heard an odd sound; a kind of muted, reversed _thwoop_ , and saw a blue light and a ripple in the air.

She turned in alarm, only to see John pointing some sort of blaster at it with an extremely smug smile. He raised the gun to blow imaginary smoke off it; when she looked back, she saw that there was now a perfectly square hole where the valve and a chunk of the pipeline had been. She could hear a whistling, as pressurised gas leaked out.

Tosh raised her eyebrows. “Some kind of sonic pulse launcher…?”

John made a wiggly hand gesture. “Yeah. Makes square holes.”

“I swear to _god_ , if you make a joke about round pegs right now...”

“You’re the one who said the words, sweetheart.” He sheathed the weapon.

“Where did you get that, anyway?” said Tosh. “And if you had that before, why didn’t you use it to get out?”

John narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve been about a bit since then” he said. “Got a few supplies, done some heroic deeds...”

She snorted disbelievingly. “Come on, then. Make yourself useful and help me with the other oxygen lines.”

There were four separate pipelines running from the main tank Tosh soon found, nestled in amongst the lines carrying the other gases, nitrogen and the components of the atmospheric poison that swirled all around. She and John were able to unearth two more and make holes all along them, the hiss of them a comfort amongst the alarms that were still ringing in the distance.

“Gray!” she said, pulling herself up from where she’d been inspecting the most recent hole. “You got any over that side?”

“Yeah, there’s another pipe here” he said. “If one of you throws me the gun, I can just–” He broke off.

“Gray?”

No answer. Tosh raised her head, peering up to where he’d last been. “Gray, are you–”

The words died in her throat as she saw Gray, standing silhouetted in front of the broken panel through which they’d come in.

In front of him, filling the doorway, was an alien creature. It seemed to tower above him, all nightmarish spines and protrusions and what seemed to be mandibles, clicking as it advanced on him. Gray was tall, but this creature made him look like a tiny child in comparison, especially with the way he was standing, shoulders hunched and frozen. Staring up like a mouse caught before a cat, with nowhere to run.

“Gray!” she screamed. She drew her gun, but then cursed as she remembered the combustible mix of gases filling the chamber; if she shot now they’d likely all end up dead. She whirled back to John. “Shoot it with your sonic thing!” she yelled.

“No!” said Gray as the thing advanced on him, reaching out with a claw; more would be coming soon, Tosh knew, now they’d been found. Gray started edging away from the final oxygen pipe that they still needed to break open, the katana drawn in his hand. “Get back to what you were doing. I’ll–" he dodged another blow, voice trembling. “I’ll hold it off, buy you some time to–”

“No!” Tosh shouted. She wasn’t doing this, she wasn’t leaving him behind. “John!” she said. “Shoot the pipe! Now!”

“I can’t, he’s in the way!” he said. “...Jack would have my head.”

She gritted her teeth, seeing that he was right; Gray was between them and the alien creature, as well as the final pipeline. “Gray, lead it away...” her eyes widened, as another creature appeared at the lower door, a second right behind, beginning to pick its way upwards through the complicated network of pipes with surprising agility. “Gray! Over there!”

“Get out!” he yelled, with a slashing blow. The creature in front of him screamed in displeasure, lunging forwards; its sharp, hooked pincers missed the outside of Gray’s suit by centimeters. “It’s probably enough oxygen... set the timer for the charges and _go!_ ”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

He looked back at her, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m Torchwood now. It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

John was beside her, taking her arm. “He’s right, you know. We should go before it’s too late. I’ve set the timer. Countdown’s begun.”

She bit her lip, tears coming, blurring her already limited view through her suit. She didn’t think she could face Jack, not after leaving Gray here to sacrifice himself. Even if he saved the world. But more than that; they were a family now. She wouldn’t leave him.

She pulled her arm away from John. “No! We’re staying, and we’re–”

But at that moment, she saw Gray scream, slashing forwards with the sword. There was a great gout of deep turquoise blood, covering Gray and the surrounding walls and pipes as the massive creature slumped to one side with a resounding crash, thrashing and shrieking and vomiting a greenish fluid until it at last went still.

There was a renewed hissing, and a shrieking from the other creatures; the corpse had fallen on the remaining oxygen line, breaking it open with its sheer bulk. Gray was standing over it, covered head to toe in alien blood, still holding the unsheathed sword, eyes wide and breath coming in pants with the adrenaline. For a moment he just stood there, many expressions passing across his face in quick succession; it seemed the world had faded around him.

Tosh exchanged a stunned glance with John.

“That works too, I guess!” he said with a shrug. And then he grabbed Tosh’s wrist, teleporting them across the room to Gray. The other creatures were almost there, but before their hooks could close about them Tosh grabbed Gray’s arm, John his other, and the three of them were vanishing, the room fading around them in a flare of blue-white.

An instant later the three of them were collapsing, panting on cold grass, the dark seeming strange and disorientating for a moment after that shining metal place.

Tosh pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, letting out a sob of relief as Gray lay on his back, blinking up at the ground from inside his hazmat suit. But they weren’t done yet. “Owen!” she snapped, reaching for John’s arm. “We need to go back and get him! Right now!”

John sighed, pulling himself up and stretching out his back. “Yes, okay, okay, hang on...”

* * *

Owen edged backwards against the wall, fingers tight around the grip of his gun. He could hear the creature around the corner, clicking more insistently as it approached.

He pressed his eyes closed, preparing to fire; there was nowhere to run but back to the hatch where the others had gone into the vents, and the last thing he wanted was to lead it there. So, then, Owen thought grimly; his options were to somehow slip past it – unlikely – or to fight for his life until he was rescued. Or until it killed him. Whichever happened first.

He drew his gun just as it lunged around the corner at him and fired three times in quick succession. But he only heard the sharp comforting crack of a bullet firing once; after that it was only blank clicking, as he realised with horror that he'd run out of ammunition.

But the creature was screaming now, a hooked appendage swiping forward to impale him, striking just to the left of his waist. Owen dodged to the side, swearing loudly and violently; between the suit, the heavy oxygen tank and the gunshot wound, he felt slow and clumsy as he stumbled back.

More alarms were ringing now, boring into his head. Which was why it took him a moment to notice the difference in pressure in the close air around his face, the acrid, chemical smell that came with it a moment later.

And another moment before he noticed the tear in his suit, just across his ribs on one side where the creature's hook had clipped him.

When he saw it he drew in a sharp breath, an involuntary panic response he regretted an instant later when his eyes began to smart and water, his throat burning. Clamping his mouth shut and holding his breath, Owen fought the urge to cough, trying to think as he ran along the corridor, dodging another vicious blow.

If he could only buy time until the others were done and could come get him... it wasn't like he could call them anyway. If he tried the speak he was dead. He had his time lock, but Tosh couldn’t get in and rescue him then; besides, he’d still be breathing the same poisoned air, time lock or not. There was no other option but to keep fighting, stay alive for just long enough despite the choking fumes.

An idea occurred to him, sudden and terrifying.

 _Well, it’s that or die_ _of toxic gas inhalation_ _anyway_ , he supposed. And he did need something to defend himself with.

Carefully, Owen held his breath as he unclipped his oxygen tank, opening the valve fully so the oxygen hissed out. He held it like a weapon in front of him, waving the nozzle at the creature.

 _If your atmosphere is poison to me_ , he thought, _then maybe mine is to you too. Or at least bloody unpleasant. And at least I'll be doing my part to make this place blow up a little faster when the time comes_.

The creature did seem to back off a little in the stream of oxygen. But not enough, Owen realised a moment later as it screamed its outrage back at him.

 _Fuck it_. With a furious glare, eyes burning and closed almost to slits, Owen swung the heavy oxygen tank with all his strength, making contact with a wet smack. He wanted to yell and scream, he wanted to rage. He wanted to collapse sobbing and sleep for three days. _He wanted._..

“ _Owen!”_ He felt a hand grab his wrist, whirling to see Tosh there beside him. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see anyone in his entire life – either his first or his second life – but her face was a mask of alarm as she stared at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't answer; he had no more air.

“Come on!” she said, pulling him out the way of another blow; behind her he saw John. Tosh linked her arm through Owen's, solid and warm, then reached out and grasped John's wrist as the blue-white light began to envelop them.

The very last thing Owen saw was the creature lurching forward at him again, before his vision turned white.

* * *

Owen nearly gasped at the feeling of soft ground beneath his hands and knees, opening his eyes to the orange sparkle of streetlights through gently waving tree branches, pinprick shines smeared out by the plastic visor of his suit.

But he was on earth, he realised as he saw Tosh and Gray beside him, already unzipping the hoods of their suits. Immediately Tosh was on her knees beside him, helping him off with his hood as he coughed, throat itching and burning, tears in his eyes from the toxic gas.

“ _Owen!_ ”

“I – _agh, mmm_ – I’m okay, Tosh!” he said, coughing. He took a deep breath, pushing himself up on one hand, inhaling and exhaling a few times as the wild thump of his heartbeat slowed down again. Breathing was easier in the cool night air. “Yeah. I’m okay... I’m okay.”

She smiled, arms going around him as she leaned forward to kiss him very softly. “I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner. We shouldn’t have left you there on your own.”

He waved a hand, avoiding her eye. “Nah. It’s fine.”

“I nearly lost you!”

“You didn’t, though” Owen said, looking away from the intensity in her gaze, face heating slightly. He cleared his throat, hoping to god he wasn’t actually blushing. “ _Um_. Did you set the charges?”

“Yeah” she said. “Timer should go off in...”

“About a minute and a half” put in John from somewhere off to the right. Owen craned around to see him stepping into the light, hood already down and an obnoxiously pleased smile on his face, giving him a little wave. “Hi, by the way.”

“Hi” Owen glared, untangling himself gently from Tosh’s arms and getting to his feet, balling his hand into a fist. “Thanks for saving me, and all. But if I remember correctly, I have a promise to keep.”

John rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go.” Then he grinned. “Gotta catch me first, though.”

Owen threw all his weight behind the punch, stepping forward into it, exactly on target to hit John square in the face.

But he half stumbled, the blow connecting only with empty air as John teleported away, cackling with laughter, in a burst of blue-white plasma.

With a yelp of alarm and frustration Owen pitched forward onto the damp grass, letting out a string of muffled curses as it jarred his wounded leg.

“ _Owen!_ ”

“ _John bloody Hart_! I swear to god Tosh...”

“He _did_ save us” said Tosh. She frowned, looking around. “He saved us all. I wonder where he’s–”

But then Gray broke in, pointing. “Um. There he is.”

Owen leapt to his feet and whirled around, seeing John step into the light. Then he frowned in confusion; for one thing, John wasn’t wearing his hazmat suit anymore.

Nor, Owen noticed, did he have that black eye.

But by the time he was close enough for that to occur to him he was already swinging a blow at John’s face, connecting with his eye with a satisfying _crunch_.

“ _Ow_ _!_ ” gasped John, half stumbling backwards into the grass. “What the hell was _that_ for?” he tutted, resentful. “I come here on my own time, not getting paid for it thank you very much, and that’s what I get? I haven’t done anything to you!” he picked himself up off the ground, pouting as Gray stood over him with folded arms and Tosh held Owen back with an arm looped through his. John inclined his head, thoughtful. “Well, maybe leave you to die, a bit...” he prodded gingerly at the skin below his eye, which was starting to redden. “...Come to think of it, that’s a point. How come you three aren’t dead?”

Tosh stepped forward, gun drawn warily, signalling for Owen to stay back. “I don’t know if I should tell you” she said, doubtful. “Not until I know _when_ you’re from.”

“…Ohhh, it’s a time loop kind of situation?” said John. “Well, why didn’t you _say_. They’re my favourite. So many potential… entanglements.”

“Hey” said Owen, raising his fist again. “Answer her question.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’m from... this morning. No wait, mid-afternoon. Thereabouts.”

“Who told you to come here?” said Tosh.

“Apparently, Jack” he said, shrugging.

“You’ve seen him?” demanded Gray.

John gave him a disdainful look up and down. “He left me a note, if you must know” said John. “He always did enjoy that dramatic cloak and dagger stuff. ‘Course, I did too, but...”

“But he sent you here” said Tosh, frowning. Owen could see her eyes running over him – over the slight swelling that was beginning to come up on his eye. “Why here?”

“No idea” said John airily. “I was assuming it was something fun, but maybe that was too much to hope for.”

Tosh frowned, starting to pace. “I scraped these location coordinates from the trace on the laptop Gwen was using” she said, thinking aloud.

“I don’t know anything about a laptop.”

“But Jack _told_ you to come here.” She looked around. “...Wait... I know this place!” she said, frowning. “This is Victoria Tower Gardens. Right near the Houses of Parliament!” She looked at Owen. “You know, where the BBC political correspondents report from on the news.”

He blinked, giving the place another look; he’d barely paid any attention up until now, too focused on other things. Like being on solid ground again, having breathable air, and punching John. “...Shit, you’re right” he said, recognising the fancy Victorian monument, the floodlights illuminating it, the tall tower of the Palace of Westminster off behind him. He remembered taking the bus down here on a primary school trip once, doing all the tourist sites in this part of London in interminable detail. But it was night time now; the park was closed and there was no one else obviously around. Owen squinted suspiciously into the shadows that blanketed the bottoms of the trees. “But, why–”

“ _Shh!_ ...There’s someone else here.”

They all turned, starting in alarm at Gray’s voice. He was staring off into the shadow, utterly still. A moment later he seemed to catch sight of something and began stalking forward with utter silence, John’s katana loosed in the sheath, but not drawn enough to catch the light. The whole effect was more than a little unsettling, especially since his suit was still splattered from head to toe in alien blood.

Owen exchanged a look with Tosh that he hoped conveyed, _should we do something about this?_ _Or just let him_ _potentially_ _murder someone with a sword, in the middle of Westminster?_ But she just shrugged, apparently as nonplussed as he was.

She did have her gun drawn, though. Owen drew his too, even though he was out of bullets. Might give them a scare at least.

Gray had almost disappeared into the shadows between the trees, where the streetlights didn’t fall.

Then there was a sudden movement and a yell. Gray re-emerged dragging another figure by the collar, the sword held to their throat. “Found this one hiding behind the tree” said Gray. “Maybe he was listening to our conversation.”

“I wasn’t bloody listening!” complained a familiar voice. “God, will you let me go? It’s me! It’s Rhys!”

Owen blinked, seeing that it was in fact Rhys.

“...Oh, shit! Sorry, Rhys!” Tosh said. “Gray, let him go. That’s Gwen’s husband. I know the two of you haven’t properly met, but...”

“ _Thank_ you” said Rhys, rubbing his neck grumpily and giving the blood on Gray’s clothes a look of distaste as he released him.

“...Um, sorry” said Gray, sheathing the katana. “Misunderstanding...”

“Yeah, yeah. And you must be Jack’s brother then. We haven’t properly met.” Then Rhys did a double take, staring around the assembled group. “Wait! Tosh... Owen... Gray. You were in that video, in that… what was it, a torture chamber? Prison?”

“Something like that” said Owen, grimly. “I don’t like to think about it. But, what–”

“And… and him!” Rhys was pointing a finger at John, eyes wide. “That’s...”

“Captain John Hart. So you’re the _husband_.” He grinned. “Maybe we could–”

“Stop it” said Tosh, firmly. “Rhys, it’s fine, he’s with us.”

“I beg to differ–” began John.

“And we promise, we’re all fine. But… Rhys, what are you _doing_ here?”

He hesitated for a moment, before hefting his rucksack. “Blackmail data on what the government’s been doing, innit? Saved on a laptop. I’m keeping it safe at this, a secret location...”

Owen made a face. “Who’s idea of secret is this, Jack’s? This is more public than practically anywhere–”

“Actually, it was Gwen who thought of it” said Rhys, rather coolly. “And she’s had a lot on her plate lately, thank you very much.”

Tosh sighed. “Look, Rhys” she said. “I think we all need to go through what we know. First of all, where are Jack, Gwen, and Ianto?”

“Gwen’s hiding in a warehouse. Jack and Ianto went off to go talk to some aliens, in Thames House. MI5 headquarters, by the river. Haven’t heard from any of them since, but then I wasn’t expecting to. No news is good news, eh? But what about you? What’ve you been–” he broke off, eyes going wide as he stared up into the sky. “ _Whoa!_ Is that a space ship?”

Owen whirled, just in time to see a vast silver shape materialise in the sky over the Thames, lit dully from underneath by the glow of the city’s street lights. It was hard to tell how large it was, or how close; but it seemed to cover half the sky, stretching out far in each direction. The hull seemed to ripple as it materialised into view, like a mirage on a hot day.

“Oh, that’ll be the cloaking systems failing” said John. “It never looks like that when you just switch it off. But, why–”

The rest of his sentence was cut off, as the ship exploded in an expanding ball of blue flame.

“Get down!” Owen yelled, covering his eyes; it was too late though, the flash of light searing a patch onto his retinas even as he threw his arm across his face, dropping to the ground. At the same time he felt the onslaught of radiant heat, like standing in front of an open furnace.

Then for a moment everything went still.

Rhys raised his head. “What the fuck was that?” he gasped. “What–”

“Everyone stay down!” shouted Tosh from beside him. “There’ll still be–”

The blast wave was so deep it was like an earthquake, the air sucked from their lungs for a moment, the ground vibrating with it. Owen’s hand found Tosh’s on the grass, the two of them clinging close.

They all lay on the grass for a while, hardly daring to raise their heads. Finally they began to sit up, getting their bearings on the cold ground, looking at each other with stunned faces.

“Well” said Tosh, smiling slightly as she looked around. “I guess it worked.”

“Wait” said Rhys. “Th-that... that was you?!?”

She grinned proudly. “Yep!”

“But! That was... that must have been... they were the ones controlling the kids then? And now… that was _you!_ ” Rhys subsided into muttering, looking both impressed and disturbed in equal measure.

But Owen noticed Tosh wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking over at Gray, who hadn’t got up but was still lying on his back in the grass. “Gray…? ...Oh my god, Gray! Owen, I need...”

“He’ll be fine” said John flatly.

“What?”

Owen came over, checking Gray’s pulse and his breathing. A little on the fast side, but god knew his own was too with the time they’d all had these last days. “I think John’s right, Tosh. Seems to just be unconscious. I can check him for concussion when he wakes up, but–”

“Nope, no concussion” said John. “He’ll be okay.”

Tosh rounded on John. “You know what’s happened to him?”

John shrugged. “That’ll be the faulty telepathic link, I suppose. Ripping out one of those is bad at the best of times, but a badly-tuned one like that… scrambles the brain a bit. But no lasting damage. Probably.”

“There better not be” said Tosh, but she didn’t sound threatening; she sounded desperate, Owen thought.

But even as she said the words, Owen saw Gray shift, pulling himself upright and clutching his head, pushing back his hair in which smears of alien blood had begun to coagulate.

“Gray?” said Tosh tentatively. “Are you... okay?”

“I’m...” he began, voice cracking. “I’m fine” he said. “I’m fine! They’re _gone!_ ”

Tosh shuffled closer, squeezing his hand. “I’m so glad” she said.

Gray smiled wearily. “Yeah” he said. “Me too.”

“Any time you people feel like giving me an explanation of everything I’ve apparently missed” broke in John, rather testily. “That would be great.”

“...Actually, I agree” said Rhys.

Tosh nodded, looking around at all of them and taking a deep breath of night air. “Yes” she said. “That we can do.”

* * *

“ _Ah!_ What the _hell_ was that?” Gwen gasped, struggling to catch her balance; she bit her lip against the pain where the corner of the packing crate she was sitting on had bruised her thigh. “An earthquake?”

Beside her, Johnson was picking herself up off the ground. “Felt more like an explosion” she said.

Gwen blinked. “Was it Jack and Ianto?” she wondered aloud, gesturing to the screen. But all she saw was a stretch of chequered marble paving slabs and the skirting board of a wall. She frowned. “Damn it! Whatever it was must have knocked over the camera for the feed Lois was watching!” Then she remembered something else. “Clem?” she said, looking around for him. He was behind her, having stumbled to one knee, grasping at a fallen crate to catch his balance. She felt a sudden flash of dread; _no, not again_ …

But instead of the strange, inhuman voice coming from him she saw him meet her eye, a tentative smile spreading across his face like spring sunshine after winter. “...Clem? Clem!” she said. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“It’s... gone?” he said, gesturing. “It’s _gone_!”

“...What’s gone?”

“ _They’ve_ gone” said Clem. “From my head! They’ve been there since I was just a child, and they’re just _gone!_ ”

“...Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, absolutely sure!” there were tears in his eyes, starting as a trickle then flooding down his cheeks. “I know what they feel like. ...I’d almost forgotten what it’s... what it’s like without them.”

Gwen stared at him, hardly daring to hope. “Clem, that’s wonderful!” she said, going to pull him into a hug. He only flinched for a moment before returning it, squeezing her a little too tight. “But... how?”

He didn’t answer. But Gwen’s mind was working, going through the possibilities. She wondered if it really was Jack and Ianto that had done this. But what could they have done? She squinted back at the feed, making a noise of frustration when she saw that no one had righted the fallen camera; it was still trained uselessly on the floor tiles. And without Jack and Ianto’s faces, the lip-reading software couldn’t pick up what they were saying either.

Gwen stared at the still image for a while longer, wondering what she should do. Hardly daring to hope that this might be the end of it, or at least the beginning of the end.

And then, reflected against the tiles on the camera feed, she saw red warning lights begin to flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is already written (since it was originally part of this one and I had to split them, AGAIN...I'm always wordier than I expect) so expect that very soon! Also, I've said before and I'll say it again; thank you for your wonderful comments, they (and this fic) have been absolutely fuelling me, and keeping me going through the quarantimes. You're all great <3


	20. Chapter 20

_**[05:29, Friday]** _

Rhys sat in the plastic seat of the late-night takeaway, clutching the laptop bag to his chest and watching Owen, Tosh, and Gray tear into their second extra-large pizza. Beside him John’s hand darted out to grab a slice, in between drinking what Rhys was fairly sure was an extra-large martini; he didn’t even know where John had got it, since nothing else was open. He watched as Tosh licked pepperoni grease off her fingers before guiltily wiping them on her napkin, and Gray stuffed his last slice into his mouth almost whole. Rhys had a sudden, vivid memory of a Torchwood pub night when he’d witnessed Jack do much the same with half an entire burger. Briefly, he wondered if it was a genetic or a cultural thing, before deciding it was much more probable that neither of the brothers had any table manners.

But all of this was a distraction; the truth was, Rhys felt very much on edge, thinking over the disturbing story they’d filled him in on on the way here. No wonder they were hungry, he thought; kept locked up in a blank little cell like that.

And there was the fact that he felt a bit guilty for being here at all himself; the harsh fluorescent tube lighting felt like danger, like the risk of discovery. The plan had been for him to stay hidden after all, wait out tonight for Gwen’s signal to release the incriminating footage, or for the all-clear. Or her warning to run; whichever happened first.

Still. After the takeaway’s owner had let them in to use the cramped bathroom to clean Owen’s wound which had started bleeding again, and to try and wash off at least a little of the violently turquoise alien blood that Gray was covered in – a lost cause, they soon decided – and since the five of them had already effectively made the proprietor keep the place open way past the last tube home, Rhys had felt rather obliged to spend the last of his cash to buy them food. That was, including a hefty tip; the poor man had looked terrified throughout the whole process, and Rhys felt on balance he more than deserved it.

His fingers closed around the stolen mobile phone in his pocket, itching to ring Gwen, to tell her what had happened. But so far he’d fought the temptation, knowing that they could trace him.

Plus, he’d promised Gwen.

His fingers closed a little tighter around the phone.

A moment later, he nearly jumped out of his skin when it started vibrating of its own accord, nearly dropping it in his haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god, _someone’s_ picking up their phone.” Gwen sounded harried and more than a little upset, before pulling herself together a moment later. “Um. Hi, sweetheart... it’s me.”

“Hi, love” Rhys said, frowning as the others all turned to look at him, blatantly listening in to the conversation. “Um, should you be ringing me? I thought it wasn’t safe to talk.”

He heard Gwen hesitate for a moment. “Rhys. Is everything… okay, on your end?”

“Yeah!” he said, brightening immediately. “Listen, Gwen, you’ll never believe who I found! It’s only the three who were taken prisoner! Tosh, Owen, and Gray are all safe!”

“...Wait. Really?”

“Yeah! And then there’s–”

On cue, John leaned into Rhys’s space with a wide grin. “Aw. Don’t I get a name drop? I _did_ save the day, apparently...”

“...Bloody hell” said Gwen. “Is that _John Hart?_ What’s that bastard doing here?”

Rhys rolled his eyes, pushing John’s face away with the back of his hand. “Long story, I’ll tell you later. Listen, point is, the other three are safe.” He grinned, pointing at the phone and mouthing, _Gwen_. “I bought them pizza” he told her. “Reckoned they needed it, after the time they’ve had.”

“Good. Make sure they’re okay” said Gwen. “And give them my love.”

“Will do” said Rhys, tucking the phone under his chin and making a heart gesture to the three of them. Then he frowned, remembering her tone before. “Gwen love... something wrong?”

Another moment of hesitation. “...I don’t know” she said. “...Listen, Rhys, you haven’t heard from Ianto or Jack, have you?”

“Nope” said Rhys. “I thought we weren’t supposed to be communicating unless it's an emergency?” the implications of that, given that she was calling him now, made him frown. “Are they okay?”

“...Probably” said Gwen. “But I lost the video link to Thames House in the explosion. And now neither of them are picking up their phones, and it’s been hours, and I’m worried...”

He folded the napkin nervously, aware that all the others were staring at him. “Nothing to worry about though, eh? Jack and Ianto can handle themselves.”

“...Yeah” she said. “...Even so. I was thinking of going to Thames House to check.”

The anxiety in her voice made him more nervous than anything she’d said. “Want us to come meet you there?”

He heard her hesitate for a moment, saw the three across the table from him already starting to reach for their jackets and guns. “Yeah” he heard Gwen say. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Right” he said, starting to stand up too. “We’ll be there as soon as we can, love.”

* * *

_**[23:56, Thursday]** _

Jack exchanged a look with Ianto as the tremor from the explosion faded. Ianto was frowning, brow furrowed in that way it did when he was nervous but trying not to show it. “What the hell was that?”

Jack shook his head. “No idea” he said. “Not us, anyway.” He frowned too. “Something else.”

Ianto looked back at the tank; the creature within was still screaming and thrashing back and forth with obvious distress, vomiting yellow-green slime that slid down the glass walls. It was a disturbing sight, the screams peaking on the audio feed, making high notes of feedback that bored into Jack’s head. “What is it?” Jack demanded. “What’s going on?”

The only answer was more screaming, unintelligible; it sounded almost like it was in pain. Not that Jack had any pity to spare for the creature in the tank. But something had happened, clearly.

“ _Tell us what–_ ”

“THE WAR HAS BEGUN” screamed the creature, its words even more garbled and staticky than before. “LET IT BE ON THE RECORD THAT HUMANITY HAS COMMITTED THE FIRST VIOLENT ACTION.”

Jack frowned. “Wait, what?”

“The explosion?” Ianto said. “What was that?”

“HUMAN CIVILISATION HAS COMMITTED A WAR CRIME. YOU WILL PAY.”

Jack snorted. “ _We’ve_ committed a war crime? Five minutes ago you were trying to blackmail us into giving you our children, but if you really wanna split hairs you can get the hell off this planet and take your case to the Shadow Proclamation. Otherwise–”

But his voice was drowned out by another bout of furious shrieking and vomiting. “THE CONNECTION HAS BEEN LOST. BUT ACTION HAS BEEN TAKEN AGAINST THOSE THAT REMAIN.”

He heard Ianto inhale a soft, sharp breath, as though he understood something. Jack looked over at him, frowning.

But the creature was speaking again, low and rasping, words imbued now with pure, poisonous hatred. “YOU HAVE BROUGHT DEATH TO OUR PEOPLE. WE BRING THE SAME TO YOURS. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR WAR.”

“ _We didn’t do anything!_ ” shouted Jack.

“LIAR!”

“He’s telling the truth!” Ianto snapped, stepping forward a pace with fury in his eyes.

“ _LIAR!_ ”

“Listen” said Jack, catching his breath. “Whatever’s happened–”

“WE WILL HAVE OUR VENGEANCE ON THE HUMANS IN THIS BUILDING NONETHELESS. A SMALL PRICE FOR WHAT HAS BEEN DESTROYED.”

Jack glared back, spreading his arms wide. “So do it then! Do your worst. We’ll stop it.”

“ACTION HAS BEEN TAKEN.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply when an alarm began to blare, lights flashing red all around. “What’ve you done?” he demanded.

“LET IT BE KNOW THAT IT WAS HUMANITY THAT STARTED THE WAR. NOW WE CONTINUE IN KIND. A VIRUS HAS BEEN RELEASED. IT WILL KILL EVERYONE IN THE BUILDING, AND PERHAPS THERE WILL BE JUSTICE FOR THE MURDERS YOU HAVE COMMITTED.”

But Jack was no longer listening. Grasping Ianto briefly by the shoulders – and Ianto was still standing there as though frozen to the spot, Jack registered dimly as he ran past – he bolted for the open door out into the corridor.

Outside it was already chaos; he could hear screaming from the stairs and the lifts, the low clunking of metal bulkheads sealing, the slamming of doors.

Jack ran around the corner, almost sliding on the smooth marble floor. “The air’s poisoned! Call someone. Shut down the air conditioning, block every air vent. Get gas masks, hazard suits, oxygen cylinders!” Even as he said the words he felt himself gasping for breath, though he didn’t know if it was because of the air he’d breathed in or just the adrenaline coursing through him. He could hear his heartbeat as he ran, loud in his ears; he knew this sort of building. They were built to withstand chemical and biological attack. A closed system with no way in or out.

And then a thought occurred him, hitting with the force of a speeding train.

 _Ianto_.

Jack nearly fell on the stairs in his haste to make it back to the thirteenth floor; _no, no, there had to be a way, they could still stop this, try to reason with it_ –

He burst back through the double doors to find Ianto with his gun raised, pointed at the tank. Jack drew his own gun and stood beside him, breathing hard. “You’ve made your point” he said. “Now stop this and we can talk. This isn’t _justice!_ This is–”

“THIS _IS_ JUSTICE.”

“That _wasn’t us_ , that explosion. I don’t know _what_ that was, but it wasn’t–”

“YOU ARE DYING. EVEN NOW.”

Jack started firing at the same time as Ianto did, emptying their guns against the unyielding glass. But it was no good; there was nothing, not even a crack.

Jack didn’t waste any more time on it. He turned away from the tank, clasping Ianto’s upper arms. Forcing him to look at him, willing him to listen. “We’ve gotta get you out of here” he told him. Ianto was half avoiding his eye, an odd expression on his face. Jack felt tears starting in his eyes, hot and stinging and desperate as the warning lights flashed all around. He could feel the breath catching in his own lungs, chest tight, but he forced himself to focus. “I can survive anything, but you can’t!”

Ianto took a breath of his own, rasping a little. “Too late” he said. The words set off a swoop of horror in Jack’s chest. Ianto met his gaze at last, eyes pale in the harsh light off the tank. “I’ve breathed the air.”

 _No, no no no.._. “There’s gotta be something, there’s gotta be an antidote!”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULD FIGHT” said the voice from the creature in the tank, as Ianto looked down again.

Jack let out his breath, desperate fear welling up. _No, he couldn’t lose Ianto, he couldn’t_ … “Then I take it back, alright? I take it all back, but _not him_!” he was shouting now, screaming himself hoarse; his throat hurt, his lungs starting to burn, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Jack could deal with physical pain; he’d take all of it, throw himself on the fire just to keep Ianto breathing. The whole world too, just for the extra assurance that Ianto would be safe.

There was no response. Tears blurring his vision now, he turned back just in time to see Ianto start to fall, legs giving way beneath him.

“ _No!_ No nono no no, _no_...” Jack reached for him, catching him in his arms; normally Jack would be able to take his weight, but this time he felt his own balance give way too, pulling them both to the ground with Ianto in his lap. “No! No, _Ianto_...”

No response. Ianto’s eyes were half-closed, his cheeks damp with tears, breaths coming as fast and erratic as Jack’s own. His eyelashes cast spider-fine shadows across his face in the harsh emergency lights.

Jack breathed out, holding him closer; there was nothing he could do, nothing he could do to save him, and he was slipping away… Ianto knew it too, he could tell. “It’s all my fault” he told Ianto, cradling him close to his chest.

Ianto shook his head. “It’s not.”

“Don’t speak. Save your breath.” Jack cupped Ianto’s face, running his thumb along his cheekbone as he’d done so many times before.

Ianto’s face twisted, tears coming again. “I love you.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but the words felt like a knife to Jack’s heart. _No…_ _n_ _ot like this, not now_.

“ _Don’t_ ” Jack choked out, far past caring if he was being selfish, not letting Ianto have his final confession. Some part of him screamed that he should tell him he loved him too, pour out all his boundless love for this man who was dying in his arms while he still had the chance. Bring Ianto what little comfort he could at the very end. But the words wouldn’t come; all Jack could do was shake his head. Saying it would make this real, and he _couldn’t_ …

Jack’s mind was spinning, heartbreak and panic and fear, fear of how cold the world would be with Ianto gone from it. Cold and dark, and utterly empty. Jack didn’t want to face it head on, not yet. Not ever. He’d always been a coward at heart, he thought, but the idea of a world like that scared him more than anything else.

Ianto’s eyes slipped closed a little, and Jack felt a bolt of icy clarity cut through him, born of panic.

“Ianto... Ianto?” Jack shook him a little. “Ianto, stay with me… Ianto, stay with me, please...” he cupped Ianto’s face again, held him, clasped his cheek until the tears came, rising up hot and choking in Jack’s throat. “Stay with me, stay with me, _please_...” he sobbed, stroking his face until Ianto’s eyes opened again.

“Hey...” whispered Ianto. He sounded so desperately uncertain. “It was... good, yeah?”

“Yeah” said Jack, forcing the word out through the tightness in his own chest, the constricting pain threatening to break him. For Ianto, he could do it.

“Don’t forget me...” Ianto’s voice cracked.

Jack forced himself to smile. “Never could.” At least that was beyond doubt.

“A thousand years’ time...” Ianto stared up at him and Jack felt as though someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart, “...you won’t remember me.”

“ _Yes I will_. I promise, I will. ”

Ianto nodded slightly as Jack held him, rocking him gently as he pulled him closer. Ianto’s eyes slipped closed again, and Jack realised he couldn't feel him breathing anymore.

“Ianto? ... _Ianto_. ...Don’t go. Don’t leave me, please. Please, don’t...”

The voice of the creature in the tank broke into his head; he’d almost forgotten it was there.

“YOU WILL DIE, FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO OUR PEOPLE. THIS IS YOUR DOING.”

Jack looked up at the tank again, fury burning in him as he held Ianto in his arms. He wanted to fight, he wanted to scream and tear the thing inside apart with his bare hands for what it had done.

But suddenly Jack felt weakness wash over him in a dizzying wave, recognising the too-familiar feeling of oxygen starvation. He knew he didn’t have long; moments, maybe.

And so he leaned forward, lips coming to meet Ianto’s in a final kiss. He was lucky, Jack thought vaguely; Ianto’s skin was still warm, and so in his final moments he could almost convince himself that nothing had changed. That he was only sleeping and would, perhaps, wake up in Ianto’s flat, Ianto’s arm draped heavy and warm across Jack’s chest. That all of this was some vivid, shared nightmare, that would lose the threads of logic holding it together as the alarm clock rang and the morning sunlight played across the covers.

As lies went, it was a comforting one. After a moment though, Jack’s vision began to tunnel. Even the burning in his chest faded to a numb ache as the darkness slipped over him.

The last thing he was aware of before he let it take him was the weight of Ianto in his arms, holding him close while he still could.

* * *

_**[06:34, Friday]** _

It was just starting to get light by the time they reached the embankment, the pale predawn light catching in the ripples on the river as Tosh, Owen, Gray, John, and Rhys approached the imposing stone edifice of Thames House.

All around there were police cars, ambulances and fire engines parked, lights flashing blue in the quiet of the early morning. Quite a few camouflage military vehicles too; Tosh felt a reflexive flicker of nervousness as she recognised the UNIT insignia on more than one of them.

Not that there seemed to be the usual activity one would expect with the emergency services out in force; no paramedics wheeling stretchers out, no ladders going up the sides of the building.

Only a few soldiers in red caps, filing up through the doors. They didn’t even seem to be in a rush.

Tosh exchanged a look with Owen. He was frowning, looking just as unsettled by it all as she felt.

“Right” she said, trying for brisk cheerfulness. “I think Owen and I should go in. If they let Gwen in, they probably won’t arrest us.”

“What about us?” said Gray.

“You’re civilians” said Owen. “Technically. Plus, Rhys still has that laptop. We should keep that away from them.”

“And me?” said John.

“People would ask too many questions” said Tosh, making a face. “Look, just stay here. We’ll meet up with Gwen, Jack, and Ianto, find out what’s going on, and we’ll come straight back out.”

Owen gave her a nod. “What she said.”

Rhys nodded, hugging the laptop bag close. “Sounds good to me. Tell Gwen I said hello.”

“And I’ll stand guard” said Gray.

John sighed. “And I guess I’ve got nothing better to do. See you later.”

In the event, it was even easier getting in that they’d thought. The UNIT soldier guarding the door only gave them a slight frown when Owen told her they were Torchwood, before directing them to the small staff gymnasium in the adjoining building, through the maze of corridors set back from the street.

“Why’d she send us there?” said Tosh as they walked.

“Maybe that’s where Gwen went?” said Owen. He squinted around. “Bloody weird, this place. I’m no expert on MI5 employees but none of these people look like they could be one.”

“All these soldiers...” said Tosh as they turned into what she hoped was the right corridor, tiles on the floor and closed doors along one side.

“What the hell happened here…?” she heard Owen mutter, glancing around.

She bit her lip. “Jack and Ianto were here. They’ll explain, when we find them” she said. In the distance she could hear voices, footsteps on stairs, a muffled siren wailing from somewhere outside.

Still. The air of the place was... oppressive, somehow, tense and charged and silent. She knew Owen could feel it too, as he reached out and took her hand in his.

Squeezing his hand back, she gritted her teeth and concentrated on walking. Down one corridor, turning into the next. All she wanted to do was find Gwen, Jack, and Ianto, and get back out. Everything about this place was making her nervous.

They turned a corner and found themselves at a desk where several soldiers presided over what looked like a logbook of some sort. British Army, not UNIT. Behind them was a pair of closed double doors.

Tosh forced a smile. “Excuse me, we’re looking for someone. Would have been in Thames House. I’m not sure where they are now.”

“Name?” said the soldier sitting at the desk.

She hesitated for a moment. “Toshiko Sato” she said. “This is Doctor Owen Harper. We’re Torchwood.”

“No, Ms. Sato. I meant who are you here for?”

“Oh! Um. We’re here to see Gwen Cooper, Jack Harkness, and Ianto Jones” she said. “Do you know where we could find them?”

“I just showed Ms. Cooper in” said the second soldier. “She should still be there. Captain Harkness and Mister Jones are numbers thirteen and fourteen.”

She frowned, glancing at Owen. There was an odd look on his face, that she couldn’t quite read. “Numbers…?”

“Follow me, Ms. Sato, Doctor Harper” said the soldier. “And... I’m sorry for your loss.”

That alarmed her a little. But before she could ask what he meant he was leading them through the doors. Down a short corridor and into what looked oddly like the gym hall at Tosh’s school, only with rows and rows of shapes laid out on the floor, covered in red cloth. A moment later she realised it was indeed a gym hall, the lines under the red cloths on the floor making her look at them more closely.

She stepped back a little as she realised what was under all the cloths.

Bodies. Dead bodies. Her heart quickened, jumping up into her throat as she realised something was very wrong. She exchanged a wordless glance with Owen and then looked up, scanning the room.

And that was when she saw they weren’t alone. She hadn’t noticed at first – they were so quiet and still – but at the far side were two figures, sitting on the ground next to one of the bodies. One was clearly Gwen, her head lowered. The other was Jack, his arm around her shoulder. The way they were sitting, turned to the side and hunched over, she couldn’t see their faces.

She could see the sign by the nearest body though, the number 14 in bold black on yellow. She remembered what the soldier had said, and a horrible fear began to crawl up her throat.

She was dimly aware of Owen’s hand on her arm, his voice in her ear, but she was barely listening to what he was saying. A large part of her wanted to turn back, to run out of the doors and pretend this wasn’t happening. But she forced herself to walk forward, stepping between the bodies, her footsteps echoing too loud in the silent hall.

Close enough that she could see the face of the body, the cloth pulled back to reveal–

 _No_.

No, no, not Ianto, no there had to be some mistake, there had to be _something_ –

It was at that moment that Gwen looked up to meet Tosh’s gaze, her expression filling Tosh with a horrible certainty. A moment later Jack did the same, and the look on his face almost sent her stumbling backwards; his eyes were like open wounds, raw and devastated and utterly without hope.

“Tosh... Owen...” rasped Gwen as Tosh stared back – she had to keep her eyes on Gwen, hold her tear-stained gaze because she couldn’t bring herself look at Jack like this, _and_ _besides,_ _if she didn’t she’d look_ _back_ _at Ianto’s face, pale and lifeless and still, and it would all be real_ –

“Oh Tosh...” said Gwen, as though forcing her voice to work, managing a teary whisper. “It’s too late, sweetheart. I’m sorry. It’s over.”

But Tosh was shaking her head, the well of pain inside her turning to a sudden, trembling energy that she didn’t know she had. She frowned, backing away, pulling her arm back when Owen tried to hold on to her.

“Tosh!” shouted Jack as she backed away, back down the aisle between the bodies. But she shook her head and shut his voice out, shut it all out.

She had to get away.

She had to fix this.

After all, she’d made a promise.

Tearing her gaze away, she turned and began to run, out the door and back down the corridor. She was dimly aware of Owen and Gwen running after her, their voices shouting her name, echoing in the hallways. But she ignored them, single minded, running back down the corridor that joined to Thames House proper. Out into the lobby, footsteps loud against the cool, polished marble.

The cool early-autumn breeze felt strange and almost unreal against her face after the oppressive stillness of that room. She struggled to catch her balance this time, eyes blurring with tears as a wave of dizziness swept over her; she still hadn’t slept, but it would have to wait. She scanned the street, spotting the other three under a tree a little way off, and started running towards them just as she heard Owen and Gwen burst out through the glass doors behind her.

Jack hadn’t run after them, and having seen his face, Tosh understood. Nevertheless, it made a sob rise up in her throat to choke her, thinking of him still sitting there with Ianto, all alone.

John and Gray seemed to be arguing, she noticed as she ran up. Rhys was facing towards her and his eyes widened as he saw her coming. But by that point she’d reached them, her mind already sifting through possibilities, ideas and fragments of plans all coming to her and being sorted through, or rejected, in quick succession. Her gaze caught on John, who was frowning at her, saying something she didn’t register; her eyes were fixed on the vortex manipulator at his wrist.

A moment later Owen was there, arms going around her and taking her weight, calling her name. His voice filtered through her consciousness as though from a great distance.

“Tosh! Tosh… c’mon darling, let’s just sit here for a minute...”

She was aware of Owen helping her sit down on a bench under the trees. She looked up at him, leaning her weight against him as he sat down beside her, clasping her cold, trembling hand between his and trying to rub some warmth into it. As he did so, Rhys appeared and leaned in solicitously, asking Gwen something. But Tosh barely heard them. A moment later Gray was there too, sitting down on the bench on the other side of her as Gwen knelt down in front of her, taking her other hand.

“Tosh?” said Owen, gently turning her head so she had to meet his eyes, wiping away some tears from her cheek with his thumb.

“They killed them” she managed. “Everyone in Thames House. They just killed them _all_.”

“...I know, sweetheart” she heard Gwen say, voice breaking on a sob. “I know.”

“ _They killed Ianto_ ” Tosh choked out, letting Owen reach out and awkwardly pull her into his arms; she pushed her face into his jacket, feeling the comforting beat of his heart, grateful that for a moment she didn’t have to talk. She didn’t want to voice it. She wanted it not to exist, she wanted to fix this, she wanted–

But no. She couldn’t break now. She had to _think_.

She opened her eyes, gasping in a steadying breath. “Owen.”

“What?” Owen let her go, looking at her in concern. She looked between him, and Gray, and Rhys, and Gwen.

“Where’s John?” she blurted.

“Here” he said, stepping out from behind Gray, eyes wide and more shocked than she’d ever seen him. “And staying for a while, I guess.”

She nodded, looking around at all of them again, their faces all ashen and weary.

It wasn’t the end, she thought. It couldn’t end like this, not after everything. She refused to let it.

Tosh took a deep breath, gathering herself.

“I’m going to fix this” she said. “Or... _we’re_ going to fix this, if you’ll help me. We’re going to make it right.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Before we start, please note: I started this chapter way back in December 2019; I was excited for the CoE arc of this fic and I planned basically all of this out and actually wrote quite a few scenes of this part in full ~~when I was stuck and wanted to procrastinate writing the earlier chapters~~  
>  \- However, I feel like parts of it hit differently now in April 2020, when we’re all quarantined due to a global pandemic. (And if you're reading this at some point in the future...I hope you're enjoying normal life! God I hope that's a thing in the future!!) Nothing too major but you’ll see what I mean, I guess  
> \- I hope it should be okay, but if parts of it feel a little on the nose and/or too close to home in the current climate I’m very sorry; I swear that wasn’t deliberate!  
> \- Hope you can enjoy it as a science-based power fantasy? I’ve got a lot of those myself  
> \- Unrelated to the previous points, I’d also like to warn specifically for discussion of child death and mutilation (it’s canon-typical for Children of Earth, unfortunately)  
> \- This chapter is a little nonlinear in terms of its storytelling. There are definite reasons I chose to write it like this, but I hope it makes sense and it’s easy to understand what’s happening!  
> \- Nevertheless, I will do an update: this takes place on what would be [Day Five](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Children_of_Earth:_Day_Five_\(TV_story\)) of Children of Earth (except we’ve sort of left canon behind at this point so that’s just for reference).  
> \- HMMMM okay okay now all that’s out the way with… ~~get in losers, we're saving Ianto~~ everyone take care of yourself and enjoy the chapter!!!

_**[23:58, Thursday]** _

_**[(Again)]** _

Ianto knew he was dying. If he was honest, it wasn’t unexpected; he’d been increasingly aware, these last months, that he was already pushing the average lifespan of a Torchwood employee. He’d even come to accept it in a way; he’d already lived so much more life in his short years than he’d ever expected to.

But for all that, Ianto didn’t _want_ to die. He had, in the past, wanted to die. After Lisa, he had wished he was dead, though he hadn’t quite been able to go through with it; another thing he’d blamed himself for. But recently he hadn’t wanted to die, anymore. He had Torchwood, he had been building a life again.

He had Jack.

 _Jack_ … Ianto’s eyes darted up to meet Jack’s. He’d always half expected that when he died, it would be in Jack’s arms. Some small, selfish part of him had rather hoped it would be, if only for the last shred of comfort it would bring, before quickly berating himself for the notion.

Whatever his own wishes, he never would have wanted to put Jack through this.

Because Jack loved him, he knew as he looked up at his face, wide-eyed and terrified above him in the harsh light. Jack had never exactly said it, but Gwen was right; it was in everything Jack did, the way he said Ianto’s name, the way he kissed him and the way he smiled when Ianto brought him the first cup of coffee in the morning. It was in the way Jack held onto him, steady and grounding, after a particularly bad day, the way he’d forgiven Ianto over and over again, made him believe that maybe he even deserved as much.

Ianto _knew_ Jack loved him. He knew Jack knew his love was returned, even though Ianto hadn’t actually told him outright either. Not in so many words.

Ianto had never been much good at putting his feelings into words, was the thing; he’d preferred to put them into small acts of care, as a way of saying _I love you_ , and _I’m here_. Right now though, he knew he didn’t have many words left. And some things did bear saying out loud, if it was to be his last chance.

"I love you." His throat was burning; his lungs didn’t seem to be working right, and the words came out as half a gasp, half a whisper. _Better than nothing at least_.

“ _Don’t._ ”

Jack sounded ruined, vulnerable. _Of course_ , Ianto thought, letting his eyes slip closed a little; he had made a mistake telling Jack now. _It would only make this harder for_ _Jack,_ _who had to stay behind._ _Who always, always had to stay behind._ _It was more cruel than anything._

Ianto was struggling to stay conscious, but he was going to put up a fight for as long as he could. The lights were blinding, the sirens too loud even over the roaring in his head; he concentrated on the feeling of Jack’s arms around him, tightening as though he could physically hold Ianto in the living world, pull him from the brink of death.

But he couldn’t; of course he couldn’t. They’d both known it would be so, that Jack would have to continue on until even the memory of Ianto was just a mote of dust in the endless pages of history. But as with so many things in their lives, knowing didn’t make it easier.

At that moment he heard Jack’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and desperate. “Ianto... Ianto!” Jack was rocking him, shaking him, stroking his cheek, and it tore at Ianto’s heart to see him in pain. He must have done this over and over, with all the people he’d lost. “Ianto, stay with me… Ianto, stay with me, please...”

Ianto was about to reply – to try to find some words that would soothe Jack’s pain as well as the fear that was tightening like a trap around his own heart, something to make this easier, if only a little – when he heard a sound, a flash of blue-white light bursting in his tear-blurred peripheral vision.

His eyes opened a little wider; for a moment he didn’t recognise the two figures that had appeared behind Jack; not with the hazmat suits they were wearing, hoods and breathing apparatus mostly obscuring their faces.

But then he saw a glimpse through the clear plastic panels, blinking away his tears in surprise.

Jack hadn’t seen them though; he hadn’t been able to draw his gaze away from Ianto, and so he flinched when Tosh’s gloved hand came down on his shoulder. Staring up at her with wild eyes, clutching Ianto even tighter.

“Jack!” he could hear Tosh shouting, voice muffled by the suit. “We need to take Ianto.” Owen dropped down beside Ianto, his face filling up most of his field of vision; the lights burned bright trails across Ianto’s retinas as he gazed about, fueled by sudden renewed hope yet also feeling himself slipping away by the moment.

“Ohhh, Ianto” muttered Owen. “Come on then, what’ve you got yourself into this time?” he was frowning as he took Ianto’s pulse, gloved fingers light against his throat, gently trying to extricate Ianto from Jack’s arms. But Ianto couldn’t think; all he wanted was to be close to Jack, to be held by him one last time.

Jack seemed to want the same, staring at Tosh with tears beginning to flow down his face as she tried to talk to him. She was telling him something quickly and quietly, but Ianto couldn’t make out her words; all he saw was Jack’s face twist in panic, pulling Ianto closer into his arms.

“Jack!” Owen looked up to meet him, cutting through Jack’s sobs. “You’ve gotta listen to her Jack, trust us. We’ve got a plan, we can still save Ianto–”

That made Jack’s eyes widen, face freezing for just a moment. But then he face fell, and he shook his head. “There’s nothing” Jack gasped. “There’s not enough time, there’s–”

But Owen was shaking his head. “We don’t have time for this. There’s still a chance, but you have to trust us” he implored. “ _Please_ , Jack. Let us try and save him.”

Jack stared at him for just a fraction of a second. And then at Tosh, and then back down at Ianto, his expression was sorrowful and wrecked, communicating everything he’d never said, never needed to say, might never get to say. Jack’s hand found his, and with what pitiful strength Ianto had left he gave it a squeeze, hoping it would convey the words he no longer had the breath for.

Jack must have seen something in his face, because he let out his breath, giving Tosh and Owen a brief nod.

They didn’t hesitate for even a moment, Owen extricating Ianto from Jack’s arms. Ianto felt a stab of regret, missing the phantom feeling of him already; he’d thought it would be his very last. He was aware of reaching out to Jack, hand lifted towards him with the very last strength he had.

Jack’s eyes were raw, tear filled. “Where are you going? Let me come with you?”

“…I’m sorry, Jack. You can’t.”

Jack’s voice sounded wrecked. “ _Please_ … I want to be with him… I want… I want...”

“No. Even if the teleport could carry four, there’s... something else you need to do. And... I’m _sorry_. I’m so, so sorry.” And then Tosh dropped her voice below Ianto’s hearing and she was speaking to Jack again, pushing him backwards gently but firmly; Ianto could only see half Jack’s face, and even less of Tosh’s with the mask. But she appeared to be leaning close, whispering something in his ear, pressing some small object into his palm. There was also something large that she swung off her back like a rucksack, placing it on the floor beside him as she finished speaking close to his ear.

And then she drew back, leaving Jack sitting there on the floor staring at her with his fist closed tight around something.

But before Ianto could see anything else Tosh had turned around again; behind the clear plastic her eyes were wet with tears, filled with sorrow. But for all that, she looked determined, focused.

She laid a gentle hand on Ianto’s arm, looping her other arm through Owen’s where he knelt beside him.

And then with a nod to Jack, she pressed something at her wrist, and they were pulled out of world with a flash of blue-white light.

They reappeared in a different place, Ianto’s dimming senses jarred by the transition. There was a sharp, chemical smell that was almost familiar. Instead of the dimness of Thames House, this room was all bright light, white plastic and stainless steel.

“Help me with him!” Owen barked, and Ianto felt himself being lifted between them, placed lying on his back on some surface. He was aware of a mask coming down over his nose and mouth, air… and then, a needle in his arm, the slight pain cutting through the numbness in his extremities and the greater pain in his chest, before that was gone too.

“Did you get enough?” he heard Tosh say, stroking the side of Ianto’s face gently; it reminded him of the ghost of Jack’s touch against his cheek, and suddenly he longed for him again, hearing a hushed whimper slip from his own mouth as the tears came again. “Ssh, Ianto” he heard Tosh say. “Hang on, darling. Trust us. It’s going to be alright.”

“Yep, got it” Owen told her, putting something on one side. “Time to do it, I reckon.”

Tosh nodded, stepping back a few paces from Ianto towards Owen, who was standing at some sort of table. He watched, feeling a sudden flicker of fear as she pulled out a small metal object on a loop of cord around her neck.

The last thing he saw was her sad smile from behind the mask, before there was a quiet click.

Then, everything stopped.

* * *

_**[Some time earlier]** _

The hospital reception had been relatively quiet that night; people were staying home, what with the children, the column of fire in the sky, and just now, the explosion. So really, the night shift receptionist thought, he didn’t blame people for not risking going out. Central London was almost deserted and there was barely anyone in A and E by the usual standards of the early hours of Friday morning.

And then the reception doors burst open with a crash that made the receptionist nearly knock his plastic coffee cup over his keyboard. A moment later he actually did knock the cup over, when he took a look at the three figures standing in the doorway.

In the centre there was a woman in a leather jacket, a look of determination on her face. Alarmingly, she had a gun in each hand. She was flanked by a man wearing a smirk and an outfit that looked like he’d stepped straight out of a Soho club; the receptionist would have supposed that he had, had he not also been holding a gun, twirling it lazily around his hand with a grin. The third of them was, however, perhaps the most alarming; tall and wild-haired and wild-eyed, and wielding what the receptionist could have sworn was a katana.

The receptionist was rapidly broken out of such speculations when the woman fired her gun into the air, three times at the ceiling. “Right!” she said briskly. “My name’s Gwen Cooper, and these are my... colleagues. We’re taking over this hospital. No, don’t make a fuss now. We’re going to have a lot of patients coming in very soon from Thames House, so you’re going to get everyone moving and then do exactly what we say.” She raised an eyebrow as he went for the emergency alarm under the desk, shooting into the air again. But then a moment later she faltered. “Actually no wait, please _do_ sound the alarm. God knows we’ll need everyone on alert. This is an emergency.” She frowned a little, looking at her watch. “Or, it will be in about... oh, twenty minutes? Now, hurry along. No time to waste!”

The receptionist nodded, utterly confused and terrified, dimly noting the Welsh accent and no-nonsense demeanor. “R-right!” he gabbled, as the man in the red jacket grinned at him, leaning on the reception counter. He frowned, pressing the emergency alarm several times; he could already hear footsteps hurrying closer. _What would he tell them?_ he wondered vaguely. Well, it would be self-explanatory once they saw these three he supposed, as a few nurses and a pair of security guards ran in through the double swing doors from the waiting room.

To his alarm, soldiers were starting to run through the main doors, taking control of the place as klaxons began to sound in earnest; on the CCTV feed, he could see a lot more of them gathered in the car park, on guard.

He watched as the woman poked her head back out the outer doors. “Okay sweetheart, you can come in now” he heard her say, and another man came in, carrying a stack of documents in the arm that wasn’t linked with hers. “Now, go on Rhys. Upstairs there should be a lab. Get everything sorted according to Owen’s instructions, please?” She turned back to the receptionist. “Excuse me, what floor are the labs on?”

“Umm… floor... floor seven!” he gabbled.

“Brilliant, thanks.” She gave him a bright, gap-toothed smile and turned back to the man she’d called Rhys. “Go on love. Floor seven. Off you go.”

“W-wait a minute!” the receptionist protested. “You can’t just… do this!”

She looked around. “Oh, yeah? Actually, we can. In fact we just did. See you later!”

And he found he couldn’t really argue with that, especially after he’d watched them work for a few more minutes; amongst the four of them, they seemed to have turned what should have been chaos into a smoothly-running operation, despite the ringing alarms.

But still…

“Please!” he gasped. “Who… who are you people?”

The woman looked him straight in the eye, with a grim smile. “We’re Torchwood.”

And then, everything stopped.

* * *

_**[09:54, Friday]** _

_**[(The first time around)]** _

“ _So” said Tosh, folding her arms. “That’s my plan. Any questions?”_

 _Gwen sat silent, leaning back on her packing crate from the makeshift conference table. It was certainly ambitious, she thought, slightly stunned at how matter-of-fact Tosh had been when talking them all through it. But then that seemed to be how they all were now; keeping carefully calm, focusing on the practical to avoid breaking down as they sat around the table in the warehouse. The war room feeling of_ _it all_ _wasn’t helped by the fact that Agent Johnson had her guards stationed at all the exits, keeping watch with their guns drawn._

_Gwen wished Jack was here._

_She wished Ianto was here, too._

_But then, they were working on that._

“ _It’s... it’s a lot” said Gray, furrowing his brow._

“ _Yeah” said Tosh, twisting her hands together nervously. “A lot of moving parts. A lot that can go wrong.”_

“ _Well, I think it’s mad and dangerous. And not in the fun way” said_ _John. He_ _was hunched in the corner, one knee up on his own packing crate, staring angrily into the middle distance. Uncharacteristically, this was the first time he’d spoken since they'd got here from Thames House._

“ _Well, maybe we don’t care about your bloody opinion” said Rhys, glaring at him._

 _John gave him a_ _contemptuous_ _look up and down, in a way that made Gwen’s blood boil. “Seems to me, since this plan requires me to hand over my vortex manipulator, then any one of you who doesn’t care about my opinion should_ _probably_ _start.” He raised a hand, waving away the retort as Gwen laid her hand on Rhys’s arm. “_ _Listen”_ _said John_ _with a sigh,_ _“I know you people get off on playing the heroes, but this isn’t going to work. We all loved Eye-candy, not least of all Jack, but this plan...” he shook his head, raising an eyebrow at the looks they were all giving him. “What? You’re suggesting fucking with causality and the universe itself, and for what?”_

“ _To save our friend. I love Ianto like my own_ _brother_ _, and I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m not letting him go this easily” said Gwen sharply. She frowned. “And because… if we lose Ianto, we lose Jack too.” She thought about how he’d been when she’d last seen him, and was suddenly filled with certainty. “He... he won’t be able to carry on like this. I know he won’t. He won’t stay with us, not after this.” She fixed John with a glare. “Besides. I believe even you, John Hart, even you wouldn’t be able to look Jack in the eye, knowing you could’ve helped but didn’t.” He met her eye, then looked away. “I’m right, aren’t I?”_

“ _...Don’t need to look him in the eye” mumbled John. “He’d know that time isn’t on his side anyway. He’d understand;_ _might even_ _forgive me, one day.”_

 _Gwen shook her head. “Maybe_ _the_ _Jack_ _you knew_ _would've. He’s changed.”_ _She had to believe it was true._

“ _Besides”_ _put in Tosh. “You have to, now.”_

“ _...What?”_

_She gave John a sweet, dangerous smile. “You have to do this; you’ve got no choice. You helped us before, on the ship, but it was future you. To get to that stage, you have to stick around. And you may as well help us.”_

“ _...Also if you_ don’t _help us, one of us will shoot you” said Owen casually, taking out his gun and laying it on the table. “And what sort of paradox would that cause, hmm?”_

_John rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ve got me. You’ve trapped me with logic. Well done, kid” he glared at Owen, serious. “Fuck off, that’s not going to work. Timelines can be rewritten.”_

_Tosh gave him a big smile. “_ _Well,_ _there we go, then! If timelines can be rewritten, then you can start by helping us rewrite the one where Ianto dies. If not for us, then for Jack.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”_

_John stared at her for a moment. Then he gave a deep sigh, and began to remove his vortex manipulator. “See the things I do for you? I’m going to regret this, I know I am.”_

_Tosh_ _gave a_ _nod of thanks_ _as she took the strap, clasping it between her hands. “You’re not” she insisted. “But... we need you to tell us a few more things before we begin.”_

_John sighed dramatically, again. “Oh, what now?”_

“ _You were a Time Agent. And you seem to have opinions on this kind of thing… so,_ _tell us how to do this, without destroying_ _everything_ _.”_

* * *

For all they’d planned it, for everything they’d done, Tosh found in the moment that none of it had prepared her for actually seeing Ianto and Jack, dying together on the marble flagstones.

Nor had it prepared her for this.

She stood beside the lab bench, the sounds of Owen preparing the blood samples he’d taken from Ianto fading into the background. She wasn’t looking at Owen; she was looking outwards, out of the time bubble that surrounded the two of them.

Out of the time bubble to where Ianto was lying on the wheeled hospital gurney, frozen in time.

He looked like he was dead, she thought, frozen midway through drawing a painful-sounding breath. His body was preternaturally still, as though carved in stone. But it was different, so different to how he’d been in the room with the other bodies, the terrible room with the red cloths and Jack and Gwen and–

 _No_. This wasn’t that, Tosh thought. Because even though Ianto was frozen, he didn’t look still; he had been frozen with his face scrunched up in pain, his mouth slightly open as he cried out for Jack again.

It was an unnerving sight, like a statue so lifelike you could almost believe it could feel pain.

 _Soon_ , Tosh vowed silently, running through the steps of their plan in her head for the thousandth time. Soon, all this would be back to the way it should be.

They were going to make sure of it.

* * *

“ _One rule” said John. He frowned. “Wait, no. Two rules. ...Ugh, I can’t believe I’m setting_ rules _… anyway.” He held up a finger. “First of all, no one crosses their own timeline.”_

_Gwen nodded. “That seems easy enough.” In truth she felt very guilty that she’d been halfway across the city when Ianto and Jack had needed her most, unaware of what was going on; she was glad she’d get another chance at helping._

“ _Should be” said Tosh. “What’s the second rule?”_

_John held up another finger. “Second rule is, no fucking with the roots causes of what happened. Big, temporally significant events stay the same. We only fix the consequences of them.”_

_Gwen frowned. “_ _What happens if we change something big_ _?”_

 _John spread his hands. “The very best outcome is that the new, corrected timeline won’t… well, it won’t_ take _. Everything will just_ _sort of… implode, and_ _reality_ _will_ _heal itself by_ _revert_ _ing_ _back to this timeline. But that’s the best, and most unlikely version… more likely the universe will just spiral off into some completely different and probably much worse scenario.” He thought for a moment. “Or, there’ll be a local timeline_ _explosion. Saw one of those once; had to clean up after it too. Not pretty.”_

_Gwen nodded. “Okay, so we don’t change anything big” she said. “But how big? Give me an example.”_

“ _The ship blowing up” said Tosh instantly._

 _John nodded. “Yeah. I’d say that’s a pretty big one._ _Biggest turning point of this whole situation._ _”_

“ _Okay...” Gwen thought about this. “Just don’t go back up to the ship at the same time as past you blew it up, and everything should turn out the same, shouldn’t it?”_

“ _Afraid it’s not that simple, sweetheart” said John. “That was messy as hell, that operation; loads of times we nearly died. Chances are if it repeated, in the new timeline the versions of us up there would all end up dead and we’d have a paradox on our hands. Not to mention the children would still be possessed, or whatever.”_

“ _Wait, what?” said Gwen. “You mean, if you leave everything exactly the same, then you could get a different outcome?”_

 _Tosh seemed to understand; she was nodding. “Even though it seems like it, the universe, at its roots, isn’t deterministic” she said. She gestured in the air in front of her. “Quantum fluctuations can change the outcome of anything that relies on chance, if time was rerun. Only it’s always been a theoretical problem, a thought experiment...” she scrunched up her face. “...Oh. It means we can’t go back to_ before _we blew up the ship. Not if we want to make sure that part of the timeline holds. We have to just...” she brought the side of her hand down on the table, “cut in to events right after that, and fix it from there onwards.”_

_John nodded. “At least someone in this time period knows their paradox avoidance lessons.”_

“ _So, tell us them. Preferably without the bullshit.”_

“ _Okay, okay! Well the third rule is–”_

“ _I thought there were two rules?” interrupted Owen._

“ _Duh, I lied” said John._

“ _Yeah, right. Bet you just forgot.”_

_John made a face at him. “Three rules. The third one is no bringing information or physical objects back from this timeline to use in the new one, if you can possibly avoid it. It'll be less likely to hold otherwise, and more likely to create a paradox.” He squinted. “A worse paradox, that is.”_

“ _What do you mean, worse?” said Gwen. “This’ll be fine if we follow the rules, won’t it?”_

 _John gave a put-upon sigh. “It won’t be_ fine _. And for the record, I still think a lot of this is a bad idea and I know Jack would agree with me. He was always the boring one.” He frowned. “Normally, at least. But, desperate times, and all...”_

_Gwen thought back to Jack, the way she’d last seen him; he’d gone to meet with Frobisher to try to sort out the aftermath of what had happened in Thames House. Afterwards she’d seen him led away in handcuffs, eyes meeting hers utterly blank._

_She’d heard afterwards that he’d bargained for the rest of the team to be allowed to go free, then let himself be taken to jail. It was so painfully un-Jack-like, but John was right: these weren’t normal times._

_Her reminiscence was interrupted by Tosh’s voice. “What John means is that a little information coming back from this timeline to the new one is inevitable. And all of us are going there, so...” she shrugged. “This’ll result in a minor temporal paradox whatever we do. But as far as I can tell, it doesn’t mess with causality_ too _much. So it shouldn’t be one that devastates the world, and space-time itself.”_

“ _Oh, well” said Gwen. “That’s reassuring.”_

_Tosh gave her a tight smile. “Best we can hope for, as things stand. Anyway the point is, that’s why we have to work in the time lock. We can’t bring anything with us, not information, not samples, nothing like that.” She indicated the vortex manipulator. “We use that to get us there, and that’s it. Everything else, we work out from the field.”_

* * *

Tosh knew, intellectually at least, that Ianto was not actually in pain right now. Or he was, in the normal flow of time, which she and Owen were now outside. But the way his face looked as she stared down at him told a different story.

She tried to imagine what he’d been feeling when they'd taken him away from Jack, and almost made herself cry in the process.

As Owen worked behind her, she busied herself checking the lab equipment again. At least everything in this room had been exactly in place according to the plan. So clearly things were going fine on Gwen’s end, Tosh thought. But her eyes kept going back to Ianto.

She was remembering the last conversation they’d had with Rhiannon, beside the children’s playground in the Cromwell Estate back in Cardiff. That had been only three days ago, though with all that had happened it felt like months.

But she could still hear the words they'd exchanged, clear as if Rhiannon was standing beside her now.

_If my little brother’s in trouble, help him, yeah? I just want him to come back safe._

_We promise._

Tosh sighed. Time may not be moving outside their small enclave, but nevertheless, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

“ _So, once we’ve got a hospital” said Rhys, passing the paper cup of tea they were sharing back to Gwen, “what do we do then?”_

_Tosh smiled. “That's Owen’s part of the plan. Owen?”_

_He nodded, getting to his feet. “I feel like I should've made a bloody Powerpoint presentation” he said, with an uncharacteristically nervous laugh. “...Um, anyway. There was something Tosh said yesterday, that I couldn’t stop thinking about. The four five six choose to kill humans using a virus. That’s... not the simplest way for them to do that.” His jaw was clenched, shoulders squared as he spoke. “If Thames House was sealed against chemical and biological attack, they could’ve just as easily filled the whole place with an asphyxiant gas, or a toxin. The supply of that shit they breathe would have done it! They could’ve… I dunno, flooded the building’s ventilation system with phosgene, or hydrogen cyanide. But no. They didn’t just want to kill everyone, they wanted to do it with what they probably think is a certain...” he gestured, anger hanging low over him, “...style.”_

_There was a short silence in the wake of his words._

“ _So?” prompted Gwen._

“ _So,” said Owen, a grim smile spreading across his face, “that’s gonna be what helps us beat them. M_ _aybe it’s just me thinking like a doctor... b_ _ut if there’s a virus then_ _what we need, obviously, is a vaccine_ _.”_

* * *

At a sound from behind her Tosh tore her eyes away from Ianto's frozen form and looked back to Owen, seeing him standing still and holding the sample tube up to the light, turning it slowly this way and that. The blood ran side to side, the bubble of air shifting against the plastic.

“Owen, what is it?”

“Nothing...” he took a breath, put the sample back down on the lab bench and turned to look at her. There was an odd expression on his face. “Just thinking about something I said to Jack once.”

“Oh.”

“It was when he first recruited me to Torchwood” said Owen, frowning slightly as though the memory pained him. “He asked me why I had become a doctor.”

“I didn’t know Jack did such conventional interview questions” said Tosh. She smiled, as Owen gave a grudging chuckle. “What did you say to him?”

Owen looked her straight in the eye, all trace of his smile gone as suddenly as it had appeared. “I told him, that I’d always thought if I could save one life, then mine would have been worth it.” He held up his hands against her protest, with a slight, bitter laugh. “Yeah, I know, I know. I was… in a bad place at the time. But you know what, Tosh? That’s not what I want, anymore.”

“I’m glad” she said, quietly. “You’ve saved plenty, Owen. Even if this doesn’t work...” she couldn’t help but glance out of the time bubble at Ianto. She swallowed thickly, forcing back tears. She didn’t know if she could bear to lose him; she certainly didn’t think Jack could. “If it doesn’t work, it’s not your fault” she told Owen. “It’s not a life for a life.”

But Owen was shaking his head. “Not what I meant. Because you know what, Tosh? I wasn’t thinking big enough back then. I’m not _just_ gonna save Ianto’s life.”

“You’re...”

His jaw was set in determination. “First I’m going to save Ianto. And then, I’ll save everyone else in that fucking building.” He smiled, grim and dangerous. “Just you watch me. Nobody’s dying today, Tosh. Not this time around.”

She smiled too, pride and hope and love welling up in her chest, so intense she almost couldn’t bear it. “I know” she told him, fully confident in that moment that he was right. “And I’m right here to help you.”

He raised his head, looking around at the time lock surrounding them. “You’ve already helped, Tosh. In fact, no. None of this would be possible without you.” He looked over at her. “You know the one thing doctors are always, always lacking, the holy grail of emergency medicine? The one thing that’s more valuable than any other, is _time_. You’re scraping every second you can, trying to keep the patient alive a little longer, so you can stop the bleeding, or get their heart going again, or in this case, find a cure for this thing. And you’ve given me that, Tosh. You’d never be able to make a new bloody vaccine to save a patient in an emergency situation, otherwise.” He grinned. “You’ve only gone and invented a whole new branch of clinical practice, based on completely different principles from… well, pretty much anything in human history. That’s not bad going, I’d say. Even for a genius.”

She smiled, but it was strained. “ _If_ it works” she said, looking back at Ianto.

His smile also fell away. “Yeah” he said, looking back at the lab bench. “Well, best get cracking then, eh?”

* * *

_Owen paced at the head of the table. “So, best as I understand it, the alien virus is airborne and kills humans by attacking the lungs. Current working theory is that it stops the lung tissue from absorbing oxygen into the blood stream. The organs shut down, irreversible brain damage, et cetera.” He frowned. “It's so quick, the immune system can’t do anything about it even if it could recognise the alien virus as a threat.” He shook his head. “They just… suffocate, while still breathing. No chance for the body to fight back.”_

_There was a short silence in the wake of his words, as they all took this in; Gwen’s heart ached for Ianto’s sake, and for Jack’s. They would have had a few minutes together at the end, probably both knowing what was going to happen but unable to stop it._

_She bit her lip, forcing her mind back to practicalities. “So how long do we have exactly?”_

_Owen made a noncommittal noise. “Difficult to say from what we know, especially given Mister Time Agent over here and his rules. Can’t just go and ask our future selves how we solved this.”_

“ _That’s Mister Ex-Time Agent, thank you very much” put in John, rather haughtily. “But I would have thought you’d be thanking me for helping you lot heroically save the day without tearing the timeline a new–”_

“ _Yes, yes, thank you very much” said Gwen impatiently. “Owen. How long?”_

“ _Hmm… once it’s been inhaled, we’ve got... at most a few minutes to save Ianto. To save any of them.” There was a slight pause, as Owen swallowed a nervous sound in his throat; Gwen knew him well enough to understand how worried he was. Worried that if he got this wrong then Ianto’s death would be on his own conscience; she didn’t envy him his part in this, that was for sure._

“ _But” Owen was saying, gathering himself quickly, “there are things we can do to slow the process, I reckon. Give them oxygen, for a start; pure oxygen is best. If we increase the oxygen content of the air they’re breathing, it should offset the respiratory inhibition effect of the virus, for a little while. ...And it’s only a hunch, but it’s possible that alien virus doesn’t react well to oxygen anyway.”_

“ _What makes you think that?” said Gwen._

“ _Think how fast the virus cleared from the air after the attack; they didn’t even need to fully decontaminate Thames House after the lockdown was over. One of the UNIT medics told me it was safe to re-enter after only a few minutes. Makes me think it was the oxygen in the air; their planet has a deoxygenated atmosphere, but they do have nitrogen, so it’s probably the oxygen in our air contributing to deactivating it.” He shrugged. “Even if it just helps the victims breathe… it should help.”_

“ _That’s good” said Gwen, nodding. “Oxygen, then. That’s the secret to keeping them alive long enough for you to get to them.”_

_Owen nodded. “Hope so, yeah.”_

* * *

Tosh had always liked watching Owen work. Early on after he’d joined Torchwood, she’d realised there was a quiet, focused intensity to him when he was concentrating on something. The cynicism he’d had then had always seemed to slip away like an ill-fitting coat left behind on a chair, when he fully applied himself to some problem or medical procedure. It was how she’d first come to realise there might be more to him than the attitude he had the rest of the time, back then.

“There we go” he said at last, taking off his gloves. “I’ve isolated the virus in the air samples from Thames House, and confirmed it’s the same thing in Ianto’s blood samples. Running genome sequencing on it now, it should take a while… it’s from another planet, so the system’s not set up for it. Bloody weird, not like any earth virus I’ve ever heard of, but that’s aliens for you.” He frowned. “Then, I’ve made a deactivated sample of it and introduced it back to Ianto’s blood sample, for his own white blood cells to fight. In a while they should be churning out the antibodies needed to fight the virus. ‘Course, you couldn’t do it in real time, because this thing kills its victims faster than the immune system can fight it off; the aliens must have engineered it to do that specially. But with your time lock, and Ianto outside it, we’ve got all the time we need.”

“How long?” Tosh asked. She wasn’t even sure how long had passed; her watch said it had been about an hour, but with nothing visibly changing outside their confined bubble there wasn’t much to base her perception of time on to confirm or deny this.

“Most of the day, probably” said Owen. “We can’t leave here... or, we can, but it’ll just freeze the process if we take the time lock away from the lab bench where the samples are. Which is okay, but the one thing we mustn’t do is come within the time lock radius of Ianto; it’ll only waste his remaining time.”

Tosh nodded. “What do we do now, then?”

“Now, we wait” said Owen, leaning back against the table. He pulled Tosh close to his side, still clutching her time lock as though it was all she had to hold on to. They both watched Ianto, frozen outside the time bubble with time stopped around him.

It still felt wrong, just leaving him there like that. But Tosh knew they had to ration Ianto's remaining minutes, to keep him out of the flow of time as much as possible until Owen had the vaccine ready.

She sighed, remembering the way Jack had looked when she’d seen him there, when she’d begged him to trust them with Ianto. When she told him what he’d have to do. Knowing he’d forgive her – too easily – but hating it anyway.

Jack didn’t deserve that. But then, if everyone in the world got what they deserved then none of this would have happened the way it had anyway.

She knew one thing, and it was that Ianto certainly didn’t deserve to die.

“...Now we wait” agreed Tosh with a sigh, leaning her head against Owen’s shoulder.

* * *

In the end it took at least seven hours. Tosh paced for a while, filled with nervous energy as Owen stood watch over the lab bench, obsessively checking temperature readings and the timers he’d set up. The samples were in the incubator; there was nothing either of them could do to speed it up. She found herself wishing she could be frozen herself, that she wouldn’t have to spend these interminable hours in suspense, without knowing.

But she couldn’t, she knew. She had to be here with Owen, helping him with glassware and centrifuges and read-out data. That, and simply being there for him; she wouldn’t let him do this on his own.

Finally the timer rang. It made Tosh flinch, but Owen was on his feet again in an instant, a pipette in his hand.

Tosh watched, her heart in her mouth, as he dropped a little of the precious contents of one of the vials into some reagent, peering down at it with a critical eye, then at the computer read-out. Finally, he turned back to her and nodded, holding up another test-tube. “Well. Ianto’s white blood cells have been doing their thing. We’ve got antibodies, at least.”

She looked over at Ianto again, still frozen outside the time bubble. “So now we... what? Inject it back into his bloodstream?”

Owen nodded. “Should kick his immune system into gear quick enough to save him. It might be a bit...” he grimaced, making a wiggly motion with his hand. “Alien virus, after all. The human immune system doesn’t know how to react to those, and it’ll be uhh... a steep learning curve. And it won’t be pleasant for Ianto. But it should give him a fighting chance.” As he was talking, he had filled a hypodermic syringe with the solution, holding it up and pressing out the air.

Tosh nodded. “Shall we unfreeze him, then?”

Owen hesitated, taking a deep breath and casting an eye over the remaining solution. “Yeah” he said. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Tosh walked forward, holding the time lock in her fist to keep from trembling with nervous anticipation; if it didn’t work they could lose Ianto after all, and they wouldn’t have another chance at this.

And then she was within the time bubble’s radius of him, and suddenly Ianto was no longer frozen. He wasn’t quite conscious, but not quite unconscious either; she could see his weakening breaths misting the inside of the plastic oxygen mask, his eyes flickering very faintly behind his reddened eyelids. He was mumbling something, muffled by the mask, and a moment later, Tosh’s heart broke all over again as she realised he was still trying to call out for Jack. She took his hand as Owen rolled back his shirt sleeve on his other side.

“Alright, Ianto, mate” said Owen, quietly, as he cleaned a patch of skin. “Knowing you, you’ll probably get annoyed that I didn’t make you sign a waiver or something if you’re gonna be the first participant in a clinical trial. But if you get out of this okay, I promise I’ll never give you grief when you nag me about paperwork in the future. Bit more incentive to get better, eh?” Owen gave a slightly teary smile, reaching over for the syringe, keeping up a quiet monologue. “And by the way, Ianto” he said, “Just so you know; I know you’re weird and Welsh and neurotic and you actually enjoy camping, and you’re in love with Jack, which is honestly a character flaw in and of itself. And I know you _really_ piss me off sometimes,” he positioned the needle against Ianto’s skin, “but bloody _hell_ I’d miss you if you weren’t around. And I’m not done with you; not done making fun of you for that time you shot me in the shoulder last year, not done with bickering about coffee and tidying up and samples in the fridge. Not done with you being around to show me what becoming a better version of yourself is supposed to look like.” Owen frowned, injecting the syringe easily into the muscle as he spoke to Ianto. Tosh could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes, but his mouth was a determined line. “So you’re coming back for me, yeah? You don’t get out this easily.”

Tosh watched apprehensively as Ianto shuddered, eyes flickering a little faster. “Owen!” she said. “What do we do now?”

“Now” said Owen, drawing back with a grimace, “we take him straight to the hospital; Gwen and the others should have taken control of it by now. Let this do its work – well, best bloody _hope_ it does its work – but he needs to be in intensive care, to keep his body from shutting down while his immune system fights it.”

She nodded. “Guess you’ll need this, then.”

He smiled, accepting the time lock she handed him. “Yeah” he said, looping it around his neck and starting to pack up the case of samples. As he did so he cast a careful eye over Ianto, straightening the oxygen mask and stroking his hair. “I’m gonna have to go for a bit soon, okay?” Owen told him. “Gotta go see to everyone else. But Tosh and Gwen’ll look after you.”

Ianto, of course, didn’t answer; he seemed to be fully unconscious now, the only sign that he was alive the slight mist on the inside of the oxygen mask as he breathed. Owen was looking worried, but when she made to ask him, he held up a hand.

“Alright, Tosh” said Owen, offering his arm for her to take. “Care to give us a lift?”

* * *

“ _I’ve got a question. After Ianto, what then?” said Gwen. “You said you were going to save everyone…” she saw Owen’s raised eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not doubting that you can, but... how?”_

“ _Same way I’m gonna save Ianto, more or less” said Owen. “I’ll give the inactive sample of the virus to the others. They’ll... still be dying, in Thames House, once we unfreeze time. But we can freeze it again as much as we want, and the time locks are portable, so...” he shrugged._

_Gwen’s eyes widened. “You’re going to go in there?”_

_He nodded. “If I can save Ianto – and trust me, I’m_ going _to save Ianto – then I can inject the others with the antibodies his white blood cells make. That should keep them alive until they’re able to fight the virus themselves.” He frowned. “We’ll have to time it very carefully. They’ll need to be taken to hospital very quickly. ...Also, we’ll need someone to break the Thames House lockdown–”_

“ _I can do that” said Tosh instantly. She forced a tired smile. “Hacking government systems will feel like a nice bit of normality, after the last few days.”_

“ _Good” said Owen, nodding. “Gwen. Gray. Nearest large hospital to Thames House is St Thomas’s, just across the river. Think you can take command of the place?”_

_She smiled, exchanging a look with Gray, who gave her a thumbs up. She nodded. “Sounds easy enough. Especially with her and her soldiers.” She indicated Johnson, who was still standing guard._

“ _Even better.”_

“ _I’ll help too” broke in John. “What?” he said, when everyone turned to look at him. “Causing problems for honest people just trying to do their jobs is the only fun-sounding part of all this!”_

“ _Right” said Tosh. “So, we’ve got a plan, then?”_

“ _Sounds like it.” Owen frowned. “It’s very time-sensitive, and it just might create a paradox–”_

“ _Just a small paradox. Timeline should be stable though. Well. Stable-ish.” said John. “What? I don’t want you – or Jack – saying I didn’t warn you.”_

“ _Okay. A small paradox” Owen allowed, smiling nervously. “But also, it just might work.”_

* * *

When Tosh and Owen teleported with Ianto into the ward, they were immediately surrounded by frenetic activity; there was Gwen, immediately starting to fuss over Ianto, and a few nurses helping her lift him onto a stretcher. There was Rhys, holding a clipboard and shouting instructions, to clear space for the beds needed to hold the patients from Thames House. Time was running again, and they all knew they couldn’t waste it. Suddenly Owen was being assaulted by questions about Ianto’s condition, and his treatment, and what he’d already given him, which he did his best to answer.

There was no time to waste. Even sooner than Owen had expected, Ianto had been whisked away from him, down the corridor to intensive care, someone yelling about oxygen at the end of the hallway.

Owen would have liked to stay with him longer, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to trust the others, trust the team to save their own. Ianto’s life wasn’t in his hands anymore.

Others’ were, though. He checked his watch; though for him it had been most of a day, only a minute and a half had passed since they’d taken Ianto out of there. In Thames House, everyone else would still be dying.

Already he was thinking about how he would do it, his mind on how he’d walk through the marble halls within his enclosed bubble of time, past people frozen in their death throes. They might try to fight him in their panic, as he tried to inject them with the vaccine. Well, he’d fight back. No one was dying today, Owen was determined.

“Well” said Owen, as Tosh helped him zip up his hazmat suit again, clipping on the vortex manipulator over the top. “Guess that’s goodbye for now, Tosh.”

“See you later.” She leaned forward, kissing his forehead before helping him put on the plastic shielded headpiece. “I’ll have the lockdown broken in a few minutes, and then we’ll send in the emergency services to back you up.”

Owen nodded, clasping the time lock tight in his gloved fist. “I won't be long.”

“I wish I could come with you” Tosh said. “I could help. Another person, it would take half the time if we went separately...”

But Owen shook his head. “I need you here, opening the doors, hacking the air conditioning system and venting the whole place out. Anything you can” he said. He frowned slightly. “Besides, we couldn’t go separately anyway. Jack has the other time lock.”

She nodded, looking suddenly troubled. “Yeah” she said. “Yeah, he does.”

“Afterwards” said Owen, determinedly. “Afterwards, we’ll bring back... what’s left of him. Bring him here.” He let himself smile a little. “He can even wake up in the next hospital bed to Ianto's.”

“He'll like that.” She gave Owen's hand a squeeze and smiled. “Now, go on... like you said. Go save everyone.”

* * *

“ _One more question” said Gray; they all turned to him in surprise; he’d barely spoken through all of this. “What about the creature in Thames House? You didn’t mention that when you were explaining, before.”_

_Gwen watched as Tosh and Owen exchanged a look._

_Tosh’s fingers gently curled around the time lock with a look of stoic sorrow. “That’s where Jack comes in to all this. There’s something only he can do. And… I don’t want to ask him to do it, I don’t want to put him through that. But–”_

“ _He’ll want to” put in Owen. “After everything. Jack’ll want nothing more than a chance to get at that thing.”_

“ _I know” said Tosh. “That’s why it breaks my heart.”_

* * *

Jack pulled the mask Tosh had given him over his face, letting the oxygen from the tank flood his lungs and bring him a moment’s relief. It wouldn’t stop him dying from this, he knew. It would only give him a little more time.

Time to do what had to be done.

He tried to pull himself together, levering himself up with great effort until he was standing on his feet, the oxygen tank on his back. His arms felt bereft without Ianto in them, his chest aching not so much from the alien pathogen as the words he’d heard Ianto say, echoing around inside his head. Hating himself for holding back, for saying the wrong thing. If Tosh and Owen hadn’t come, Ianto would have died in his arms right there, and Jack wouldn’t have been able to–

But no, he thought. He couldn’t think of that now; he had to trust in the others. He had to trust his team, his family, to save Ianto, because there was nothing else Jack could do for him now. Nothing except this, the plan Tosh had whispered to him – voice heavy with apology, fighting back tears – before she’d teleported away with Owen and Ianto.

In his fist, Jack was still clutching the two other small objects that Tosh had given him, tight enough for plastic and metal to bite into his skin as he stepped forward to the tank.

The first he recognised as one of Tosh’s time locks. He looped the cord around his neck, letting the small silver disc hang over his chest.

The other object was an ordinary cigarette lighter. Dimly, he recognised it as the one Rhys had been using to light the burner in the warehouse.

Jack put it in his pocket.

Then he went around the side, pressing the button for the airlock door; it stayed locked, of course, asking him for a passcode. Forcing himself to stay conscious despite the dizziness – whatever this virus was, each breath he tried to take was harder than the last, and the oxygen supply was only slightly helping – Jack took the metal oxygen tank off his back, drew back and used it to strike a savage, direct blow to the locking mechanism on the outer air lock door. Then another, and another. By the time the lock broke, he was panting with the effort, the mask hot and stifling over his face. Inside, he leaned against the wall for just a moment as he slammed the button to open the inner airlock door.

There was a hiss as the cloudy contents of the tank filled the air lock, and then a mechanical whirring as the inner door slid open.

And Jack found himself standing in front of a dark, hazy silhouette, as the creature loomed out of the mist. He stared up at it in contempt. Suddenly, all his fear was gone, replaced by absolute focus born of icy fury.

After all, this was the thing that had tried to take Ianto from him.

“YOUR EFFORTS ARE FOR NOTHING” said the creature; Jack could see its mandibles clicking about through the dense press of the poison mist. “YOU WILL NOT SAVE HIM. YOU WILL NOT SAVE ANYONE.”

Jack gave a bitter smile. “Not what I’m here for.” And with that, he activated the time lock, the bubble popping into existence around him; it reached just outside the walls of the tank. He looked around at it. “Huh, would you look at that. Perfect size. No collateral damage.”

The creature shuffled a little, clicking in a way that Jack thought might have been nervousness. “WHAT IS THIS?”

“Necessary precautions” he said. “My friend knows her stuff, you see.” When the creature was silent, Jack shrugged. “See, now you and I are sealed off in this little time bubble, there’s no way for you to try teleporting out. Can’t teleport to where time doesn’t exist, after all.” He gave it a cold smile, behind the mask. “Besides. A confined space will increase the pressure and the heat. When I’m done here, there won’t be a trace left behind; no DNA, none of your technology, _nothing_. Better for the human race as a whole that way.” He fought back a wheeze, his lungs protesting at so many words. He only hoped Ianto wasn’t in so much pain, wherever the others had taken him. But he also knew he didn’t have much time left. His fingers slipped into his pocket, clenching on the lighter. “I’m gonna wipe you off the face of this earth.”

The creature shuffled a little, clearly apprehensive. “YOU CANNOT.”

“Oh, I _can_ ” said Jack.

The creature moved again, clicking at a faster rate. It loomed closer to him, and he thought it might try to attack him. But no, he realised. It was just shifting around, showing him something attached to its side–

“YOU WOULD KILL THIS CHILD?”

Jack gritted his teeth, staring down; the creature had turned and dipped its hind mandibles, indicating the child. And finally Jack let himself look. To _really_ look, much clearer and more undeniable than what he’d seen on the video screen. Taking in the bald head, the pallid, too-thin skin. The way the breathing apparatus had been grafted to the child’s face, the machines and wires hooked up to their emaciated torso. The blank, vacant stare.

There was no recognition in those empty eyes; not a trace of anything human. Except perhaps pain, frozen there so long ago it had replaced everything else.

“YOU WOULD KILL HER... AGAIN?”

 _Her_ , it had said. There had been six girls, six boys originally; that much Jack remembered. He tried not to think of the vaguely-recalled faces, tried not to speculate and narrow down which one this was.

Back then he had deliberately not looked too closely at the children’s faces. It had made it feel easier.

He stared back up at the creature, fierce in his conviction. “I don’t think that means anything coming from you now, does it?” He gritted his teeth, once more wanting to tear this creature apart with his bare hands. But no, he had to have patience, had to do this right. For the whole of humanity, to put right a little of what he’d done wrong, so that no more children were subjected to this same fate. And for Ianto; all Jack could think about were Ianto’s words to him, back in the warehouse. _The Jack I know would’ve stood up to them_. Maybe he could start to be that person after all. “Besides, this isn’t life” Jack said. “This child’s brain dead. Has been since the nineteen-sixties, I’d guess. No consciousness. Ending things would be a kindness.”

“IS THAT REALLY WHAT YOU BELIEVE?”

Jack knelt down in front of the child in the rigged-together sling made of plastic ropes, tubes and wires, with the whole apparatus hooked up to the creature’s side. He couldn’t see her legs, her torso protruding from a kind of cocoon, but he could see the muscles in her arms were pitifully atrophied with disuse, almost skin and bone. What he could see of the ribcage warped, twisted, and scarred over in geometric lines. She stared back at him, eyes huge, blue and blank; occasionally, she would blink, but it seemed rhythmic, mechanical. Maybe even that was controlled by the technology embedded in her. He let himself stare for just a moment, laying a hand gently on the top of that bald scalp for a moment. “ _I’m so, so sorry_ ” he whispered, so low he wasn’t quite sure he’d said the words out loud. He wasn’t sure he was even talking to the child in front of him, exactly, or the shell that was left of her; perhaps he was talking to all of them, to everyone else he’d ever been responsible for, everyone he’d caused pain. Everyone he’d killed, or abandoned, or looked away from when he knew deep down that they were suffering.

 _Stand up to them_ , he thought _. Make it right_.

Jack stood up again, taking a deep, difficult breath, feeling his head spin and his vision blur. He hadn’t got long left, he knew. Not long to do what must be done. He straightened his spine, glared defiantly back at the creature, more certain now than he’d been of anything in a long time.

“OH. SO THIS IS WHAT YOU CHOOSE?”

“ _Yes_. Some mercy, after everything, is all I can give now.”

“YOU ARE DYING TOO. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE HERE ALIVE.”

“Oh, trust me. Making it out alive is _l_ _ast_ on my list of priorities” growled Jack. He stared back at it, tugging off the mask and throwing it to the ground. He was barely able to stand upright by now, but if he could hold on long enough to do this it wouldn’t matter. Fighting against the compulsion to fall down, knees buckling to the ground, Jack opened the valve on the oxygen tank. He dropped it to the steel floor with a clatter, letting the gas hiss out, mixing with the toxic air that was quickly overcoming him.

That was the moment when the creature began to shriek, lunging for him with one of its hooks, preternaturally fast. Jack didn’t even try to dodge the blow, the sharp point punching through his solar plexus with terrifying force, knocking the last breath out of him as his blood began to pool on the floor of the chamber. He was lying flat on his back now, pinned right through by the creature’s stabbing hook like a butterfly to a board, gasping for breath as blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth.

But he was still able to reach for his pocket, to close his weakening fingers around the lighter and take it out.

And he was able to gasp out a few words with the last air in his lungs as they filled with his own blood.

“ _This one’s for Ianto_.”

And then Jack raised the lighter and set off a spark.

The explosion was almost instantaneous, with the mixture of combustible gases filling the time locked chamber; the last thing Jack heard was the furious scream of the creature cut off just as he felt the burning heat against his face. Surrounding him a moment later in a bright, final inferno, consuming all inside.

When the time lock finally dissipated under the outward pressure, there was nothing left of the tank apart from blackened, twisted metal beams and broken glass, fused and melted by the intense heat. Small fires burned on the ground all around as the emergency lights continued to flash in Thames House.

Where the occupants of the tank had been, there was nothing left but ashes.


	22. Chapter 22

_**[Friday, 10:45am]** _

Gwen stood on the marble flagstones of floor thirteen of Thames House, surveying the wreckage. Where the tank had been there were only the twisted remains of the corner beams, pushed outwards by the contained force of the blast. Inside were some fused lumps of metal, blackened glass shards, and a fine layer of caked ash containing a few larger clumps of carbonised matter. But the devastation was confined to a perfect circle, burned into the floor around the spot. There was a matching, smaller circle on the ceiling, the top layers of plaster blasted away where the apex of the time bubble had touched it.

The whole thing seemed a little surreal, this utter devastation in the midst of what was otherwise a perfectly normal – and now mostly empty – government building.

Gwen sighed, walking closer – awkward in her bulky hazmat suit – and gesturing for Agent Johnson and her soldiers to follow from where they were stationed at the door.

She knelt at the edge of the circle, laying her gloved hand on the ground. It had cooled now, all the fires out after the automatic sprinkler system had started, and then the firefighters who had come with the first round of cleanup crews had sprayed everything down.

Gwen had instructed them herself to put out any fires they saw, but to leave everything else in this room as untouched as possible. To leave it to Torchwood.

And now she was here. Gwen sighed and began to sift through the ashes. There were chunks of things she couldn’t identify, as well as the burnt-out shell of a gas tank and a few lumps of carbonised organic matter she was pretty sure was nothing human.

Her eye caught on something, a small flash of silver. She reached for it, smiling slightly as she recognised it as what remained of Tosh’s time lock. The outer casing was blackened and cracked but Gwen was sure Tosh could fix it, if anyone could.

She pulled out a plastic evidence bag, sealed it inside, and put it in her pocket.

Then she sighed, forcing herself to turn back to the other debris. The area that had been the inside of the tank was filled with black ash, thick and cloying, turned to a dense inky paste by the water from the fire hoses. Gwen squinted down at it, forcing back the sense of nausea that swept over her as she saw exactly what she was expecting.

She’d been in this room earlier, was the thing. Right after it was all over, she’d come in with the fire brigade and the UNIT troupes inspecting the place for any other hazards, right after the air was declared clear and breathable.

That had been a few hours ago. Then the ash really had been just a paste, with perhaps the odd fragment of carbonised bone or metal.

Now, as soon as she scraped away the surface layer there were obvious, large pieces protruding from it. Like pale, bloody roots rising up from dark soil. Flesh. Still formless, but taking shape with bone and connective tissue growing back together from out of the carbonised remains.

Gwen sighed and gestured Johnson and her team over. “Here” she said, pointing as the other woman leaned over her shoulder to look. “And here. Look, I think that might be part of his arm. I think he’s... far enough along that we can bring him back to the hospital.”

Johnson was looking like she was disturbed and trying not to show it; it was a look Gwen knew very well. “I’m going to need a body bag and a stretcher, over here now” she called to the soldiers in the corner.

Gwen nodded, turning back to the reforming remains of Jack. “Just a little bit longer, Jack” she whispered to the air. “Just you hold on. When you wake up, everything will be better. I promise.”

* * *

Ianto had no sense of time; when he was conscious at all, everything was colour and light and shade, voices speaking above his head that were both too indistinct to make out and too loud at the same time, making him flinch away. There was another sharp pain; another needle. There were so many needles, he thought. There was a needle in his wrist and it hurt, his flesh hyper-sensitive. His body felt hot, his skin too tight as he struggled to breathe, something covering his mouth and nose; he longed to tear it off so he could breathe again, and there was a weight on his chest, crushing his lungs and burning him from the inside.

 _Burning_. Yes, that was what he was doing. He was burning hot suddenly, hot and cold all at once and shuddering with it. Someone was holding him, the grip around his wrist and the hands on his face and arms feeling intolerable. But he felt too weak to do anything about it, not in control of his own body.

He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die, he was absolutely certain. He’d been dying before, in Jack’s arms... where was Jack? Ianto preferred that way of dying to this one; this hurt a lot more.

And Jack wasn’t with him. Vaguely, Ianto recalled that once he’d thought it was selfish to inflict his own death on Jack; now all such thoughts had gone the way of his sense of time and place and logic, and all he wanted was Jack’s arms around him, holding him. He needed him, more than he’d ever needed anything before.

But Jack wasn’t here; he _knew_ somehow that Jack wasn’t here, though he couldn’t remember why. He would have recognised Jack’s voice though, amongst the others that permeated his fragmented consciousness every now and then.

“– _temperature of thirty-eight point six...”_

“– _oxygen mask–”_

“– _immune response. Means his body’s actually fighting the virus, which is an improvement on before, but if we can’t bring his temperature down–”_

“– _most advanced case we’ve seen. All the others were behind–”_

“– _thirty-nine point five–”_

“– _antipyretic, and increase the dose of the sedative–”_

“ _Forty point three... no, wait, four now...”_

“ _Owen... he’s calling out for Jack, what do I–”_

 _Jack_. The sound of his name brought Ianto a little more sharply back to consciousness, making a pathetic whimper slip from his mouth involuntarily; he still couldn’t see anything apart from the luminous, pulsing-blood red behind his eyelids, and he didn’t have enough breath to form words, and there was something over his mouth, in his nose, and he wanted it to end, but more than that he wanted _Jack_ –

“Oh, sweetheart.” A hand on his face, cold as ice against his burning skin. “Jack’s not here right now. I... I’m sorry... shh, shh. Sleep, and he’ll be here when you wake up...”

Another needle, shifting in his skin, and a wave of black heaviness rushed over him, smothering him beneath its weight.

Then there was nothing for a while.

* * *

_**[Friday, 11:20pm]** _

Ianto was aware of sound before any of his other senses came back; a deep background hum overlaid by a higher, buzzing vibration. And a rhythmic electronic beeping, off to the right and somewhere behind his head.

It was warm here, but his chest felt tight, as though something was constricting it. That brought him back to awareness a little more, wheezing slightly as he breathed. His eyes sprang open, dazzled for a moment by too much light, immediately closing against it as a reflex.

The beeping had grown a little faster. Ianto opened his eyes again, seeing that the brightness above was in fact the colour of the ceiling. Off-white suspended tiles illuminated by a light somewhere off to the side of him, turned down almost all the way. One of the ceiling tiles was slightly askew, out of its frame.

For a moment he was disorientated; he couldn’t think of where in the Hub there was a ceiling like that. It bothered him. Ianto didn’t like not knowing things.

Then he remembered, with a slight in-drawn breath which sent a sharp pain through his chest; the Hub had been blown up, hadn’t it? Well, maybe he was in his flat, came the next confused thought. Maybe Jack had sent him home early. Because the Hub had been blown up. But no, that didn’t make sense either. For a start, the ceiling was still wrong. He must be missing some logical step. What had happened, was–

And then full memory came, all at once. Ianto nearly choked on his breath as it hit him, the beeping behind him growing faster and setting off some other small alarm.

He heard a voice just out of his line of vision, a muttered, sleepy exclamation. “Ianto? _Ianto!_ You’re awake!”

A face loomed over him. “Gwen?” he muttered, indistinctly. It was hard to talk, his voice no more than a whisper; his throat felt like he’d swallowed razor blades. Her face blurred in and out of focus, breaking into a relieved smile as she reached out to stroke his hair.

“Shush, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, it’s all over. Owen said it might hurt to breathe, but he wanted to wait until the sedative wore off before adjusting the dosage of the painkillers he’s got you on.”

“Owen?” said Ianto, frowning. He raised his hand, pressing his palm to his face; his skin felt unpleasantly sweaty, tingling under his fingers, and his head ached. When his fingers touched plastic, he realised he was wearing a nasal cannula. The slight tug on his wrists made him look again, realising there was an IV needle taped down into his wrist, a heart monitor on his finger on the opposite side connected to a terminal beside the bed. Looking around at the room, he realised it wasn’t really a room, but the curtained-off corner of a much larger space; there was a wall at his back, and a wall with a tall window on it on his left, but the other two walls were curtained off. Like in a hospital.

But why was he in a hospital? He was sure he was missing something. He felt slow and groggy, like his head was stuffed with cotton wool. Thinking was hard, but he tried his best anyway to remember. The last clear memory he had – that he was reasonably sure wasn’t a fever dream – was lying in Jack’s arms, and... he swallowed painfully to avoid letting out a sob, trying to keep his thoughts in order and concentrate on what Gwen had just said. “Owen’s here?”

“Yes, love” she said, reaching out and clasping his fingers gently. “He and Tosh brought you here, and we’ve been looking after you. Only, Owen’s asleep in the break room down the hall right now. We worked out he’d been awake for more than forty-eight hours at a stretch, what with you and the other patients, and the time bubbles… poor thing couldn’t see straight, falling asleep on his feet, so I made him take a nap. But I can go wake him if you want? Otherwise, Martha flew in last night with Mickey, she’s somewhere in the ward with the other Thames House patients, working the night shift…”

As Gwen talked, Ianto was only half listening. He turned his body as far as he could with the plastic tubes attached to the cannula on his nose, and the general ache that came when he tried to move. He felt so weak that even sitting up and turning his head to look around him felt like an exhausting effort. Not that he could see very far when he did; Gwen sat in the chair beside him, filling up most of his vision as she fussed over his pillows to help him sit up. But as glad as he was to see a familiar face – and he was, he was absurdly relieved not to have woken all alone – it wasn’t her he wanted to see most right now.

“...Ianto? Ianto, are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you want me to get Owen, or Martha?”

He turned back to Gwen, blinking stupidly. “Um” he said, realising he’d stopped listening. “Gwen...”

She frowned in concern, scrutinising his face. “Yes, sweetheart? What do you need?”

She really must be worried about him, some part of him thought. There was that voice she used when dealing with injured and traumatised bystanders, or abandoned baby aliens. But he resolved to think about the implications of this later; there was just one person he wanted to see right now. “...Jack” he managed, clearing his throat. “Gwen, where’s Jack? Please, I… I need...” he tailed off. The last thing he remembered – properly remembered, rather than vague, fragmented recollections that were almost all sensation and pain – was Jack’s face, looking down at him. Eyes red with tears – or maybe it was the virus, burning them both from the inside – and the stricken look on his face when Ianto had told him he loved him. Bright light, and Tosh and Owen, appearing out of nothing and taking him away. Here, he supposed, wherever that was. “Gwen, please...” he rasped. “Jack... where is he?”

Gwen sighed. “Jack… Jack’s close by” she said. “He’s taking a little longer to come back this time, but he’s close. It’ll be soon now, I expect.” She pushed her chair back, indicating another bed on Ianto’s right. It very much looked like it didn’t belong in this space, as though it had been wheeled in at the last minute and pushed in amidst the wiring for the equipment.

There was a figure lying on it. Completely still, covered head to foot in a clean white sheet.

Not breathing. Despite what Ianto rationally knew about Jack – he’d be back soon, he could survive anything – the sight still made tears well in his eyes, an involuntary reaction. Gwen sighed, laying a hand on his arm so he wouldn’t jostle the IV.

“Rest, Ianto” she said. “He’ll be back soon, there’s no rush.”

“Can you...” he tried to gesture, but moving caused him a stab of pain, “can you pull back the sheet? I want to see his face.”

Gwen grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s the best–”

“ _Please_ , Gwen. Whatever happened... I want to see him.”

She looked at him, sorrowful. Then nodded.

Ianto had been prepared for the worst. But when Gwen pulled back the sheet he saw that Jack's face was mostly whole, his features recognisable and achingly familiar. The top layers of his skin were clearly still re-forming, flesh shiny-red and raw, like a barely-healed wound.

Ianto swallowed. “What happened to him, Gwen?”

She smiled sadly, and placed the sheet back down. “He destroyed that creature in Thames House, and himself along with it” she said. “Only way to make sure every trace of it was gone.” She smoothed down the sheet gently, keeping Jack’s face exposed and tucking it around his shoulders like he really was sleeping. “He’ll be back soon. We had him brought here with you. Thought it would do you both good.”

Ianto nodded. “Thanks” he managed. He frowned. “Gwen?”

“Yes?”

“What happened?” he said, furrowing his brow. “How did...” he gestured, then decided he didn’t have the strength to beat about the bush. Besides, thinking about it too hard was giving him a headache. “Um. Why... am I alive? I was… dying.” He’d come close to death before, many times, but this had been the most sure he’d ever been that it really was the end. Her expression and the way she was acting around him did little to persuade him of the contrary.

Gwen opened her mouth then closed it again, staring at him. “Ianto...” she began. Something about her expression set off an alarm somewhere in his mind. There was something she wasn’t telling him. “You’re... right.” She took his hand again, squeezing his fingers very softly; her voice sounded a little choked. “We almost lost you. But I don’t know if it’s mine to tell–”

But before she could finish, there was a gasp from behind her.

They both started, Gwen whirling around in her chair as Jack flinched back to life, kicking the sheet off himself and staring fixedly upwards.

“ _Ianto!_ ” was the first thing that Jack gasped out, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at the ceiling. “Please, tell me he’s–”

“Whoa, whoa, he’s right here” said Gwen, turning to help Jack up. “Beside you, look. He just woke up.”

Jack turned to look at him, and for a moment it was like the sun had risen on his face. “Ianto?”

Ianto lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers in a weak, awkward little wave. “Hello.”

“Ianto!” Jack laughed, in joyful disbelief. Tears were already beginning to stream down his cheeks as he flung his legs over the side of the bed, practically vaulting across the short gap between. Gwen got up and offered Jack her chair, but he ignored it, sitting down on the side of Ianto’s bed and reaching out to cradle his face. But before he could make contact Jack stopped, hands hovering in the air as though he was afraid to touch. As though Ianto might shatter like glass if he laid a hand on him.

Ianto wasn’t having that; he reached out and took his hand and curled his fingers over Jack’s, pathetically glad to feel the returning warmth, the solidity of him.

And then, as though that small motion was enough to open the floodgates, Jack was sobbing, reaching out and pulling Ianto to his chest in a hug, caught at an awkward angle with the bed and the monitors and the IV stand. “Ianto, I thought I’d lost you, I thought you’d gone–”

“Never would” he said firmly. Jack was compressing his ribcage a little, and though Ianto wouldn’t have moved from there for the world, he found himself gasping for breath involuntarily. A little light flashed on the monitor and Jack drew back in alarm; the panicked look on his face was almost comical, or would have been in other circumstances.

Behind them Gwen cleared her throat. “Listen, you two. I’m going to go wake Owen to come and check Ianto over. But this is strictly on the condition that you behave, okay? Jack, looking at you here. If I come back, and you’ve, say, knocked Ianto’s IV stand...” Jack looked affronted, but she spoke over his protest, “I swear you won’t like the consequences. ...Also, I’ll owe Owen fifty quid...”

Jack rolled his eyes, one hand still clasping Ianto’s, the other roughly scrubbing tears from his own cheeks. “Glad you’ve got some faith in me at least, Gwen.” Jack turned and gave Ianto a look filled with so much exposed emotion that it nearly made him duck for cover, and then it made him want to cry. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”

Gwen smiled. “You better. So, uh. I’m gonna go now...”

The curtain fell shut again behind her, leaving them together.

“Okay” said Jack with a nervous laugh, plucking at his hospital gown with his free hand; Ianto didn’t miss the tremble in his fingers, and clasped his other hand tighter. “...So, the first thing is, I know you just got me one, but I think I’m gonna need a new coat...”

Ianto smiled, rolling his eyes, his heart soaring. “That didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, well” said Jack, clearly fighting back tears. “Aliens… you know how it is.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, they were silent, just staring at each other. Then, Ianto burst out, “listen, Jack, I–”

At the same time, Jack said, “Ianto, I’m so–" but he broke off at Ianto’s words. “...Um. You first.”

Ianto cleared his throat, laughing a little and hoping he wouldn’t start sobbing incoherently. “No, you first.”

“Okay. I... ah... Ianto. You know, what I said back there… I was panicking.”

Ianto cringed slightly, remembering his own confession. “It’s okay. Me too.”

But Jack shook his head, seeming genuinely distressed. “No! No, I mean... I didn’t mean to just... brush off…” Jack seemed frustrated, one hand raking distractedly through his hair. “I mean, I... I shouldn’t have said...”

“Jack.”

Jack went silent immediately.

Slowly, pushing back the pain in his muscles and in the fuzziness in his head and the sharp sting in the back of his throat, and being careful of the tubes and wires protruding from him, Ianto reached forward until his hand was cupping Jack’s cheek, the way Jack usually did with him. Jack liked touch when he was spiraling, Ianto had learned; it grounded him, made him feel safe. Besides, like this he could turn Jack’s face so that Jack had to meet his gaze.

As soon as he did Jack was staring at him fiercely, as though if he looked away Ianto might disappear into smoke. To Ianto’s alarm, he saw tears in Jack’s eyes again.

“Um. Jack” he said. “You know, we can just... forget about it. Go back to the way things were, if you don’t... I mean, you don’t have to...”

But this only seemed to distress Jack even more. “Listen, Ianto, I’ve never said it properly before, but I–”

“Doesn’t need saying” said Ianto, shaking his head.

“ _Yes it does_ ” Jack insisted. He took a breath, and in the instant, it seemed like time was suspended between them. Then Jack broke the hush, voice cracking. “I love you, Ianto Jones.” He laid his hand over Ianto’s on his cheek. “And... and, I want you to know that, I want you to never, ever doubt that as long as you live, because… because you deserve _better_. And I... I know I can be better. I _want_ to be. For you.” Jack drew back, eyes flicking away from Ianto’s with a slight, self-conscious smile. “And... and I haven’t done this kind of thing for a long time, but I’m willing to try. I’m willing to make it work with you, because I _want_ it to work with you. So very much.”

“Jack...” Ianto said faintly. “It... it does work” he said. “I promise you don’t need to be better.” It wasn’t even so much Jack’s words that had knocked the breath out of him, but the look on his face as he said them. What must Jack have gone through, Ianto thought, to make him act like this now?

“I will, though” said Jack, voice cracking. “I will, because I love you, and you deserve it, and I’m so, so sorry it took me nearly losing you to figure that out.”

Ianto stared at him, utterly bereft of words; whatever he’d been expecting, this wasn’t it, and for a moment he had no idea what to say.

But in the event, he didn’t get a chance to say anything as just then the curtain was pulled open again, revealing Owen, Martha, and two nurses, who immediately went to either side of the bed and began checking the equipment. Jack whirled at the sound, accidentally bumping against Ianto’s IV stand, which Martha deftly caught before it could fall over.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Oi, Gwen, you owe me fifty quid” he said, as Gwen peered through the gap in the curtain. “Cough up.”

“Oh, shut it, Owen. I’ve been on the run for five days, d’you really think I’ve got cash on me?”

“Fine. But I’m charging you interest.”

Despite their bickering, Ianto saw they were both wearing huge smiles. Owen looked weary, deep shadows under his eyes, but seemed satisfied as he checked the readings from Ianto’s charts. “Good to see you awake, mate” he said, rather roughly. “You... gave us all a bit of a scare there.” He nodded. “Jack.”

Jack perched on the side of Ianto’s bed, returning the gesture and wiping away tears. “Owen.”

From the behind Gwen, Ianto could see Rhys, Tosh, and Gray, peering through the gap in the curtains. He smiled as best he could, already missing Jack's touch as the nurse shooed him to one side to get better access to Ianto, checking the IV line to his wrist.

“Oh, _well_... sorry” Ianto said to Owen, wincing. “Next time there’s an alien virus, I’ll do my best to stay out the–” he was hit by a sudden coughing fit, the pain in his chest making his eyes water, “...out the way.”

“Hear, hear” said Jack, grimly. He nodded at Martha, as Owen spoke to one of the nurses about medication dosages. “Nice to see you, Doctor Jones.”

“And you, Jack” she said, before leaning down to Ianto. “Hi, Ianto. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier... I arrived last night, just as your fever was starting to go down. I’m so glad to see you awake.” She took the chart from Owen, peering at it. “And improving fast, it looks like.”

He smiled, looking around at all of them. The family they’d made, that had saved him, together. “Yes, well” he said, feeling tears starting in his eyes again, cheeks heating up. “Me too.”

* * *

Several hours later Ianto was sleeping again, the medication and the exhaustion of his body fighting the virus sending him off into a heavy slumber. Jack had only been persuaded to leave his bedside by the prospect of a shower and a change of clothes, on the assurance that Ianto would be well watched over, and that someone would come get him if anything changed.

After Owen had shooed him out of the room though, Tosh had almost immediately cornered him in the corridor. And before Jack could even begin to speculate on whether they’d planned it like that, she was telling him the story of what had really happened.

He vaguely remembered sitting down heavily in a plastic waiting room chair as she’d told him – her voice hushed, halting with suppressed tears – about the timeline in which Ianto had died.

Now, her words were going around and around his head as he did up the buttons of his borrowed shirt.

They’d decided that Ianto would be told too, once he got a little better. Jack had agreed that this was a good idea; Ianto deserved to know, and Jack was so sick of secrets. But – perhaps selfishly – he was glad he didn’t have to be the one to tell him.

Jack didn’t think he could make it through a conversation like that. He was glad, too, that he didn’t have any memory of that timeline.

Small mercies, he thought.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it though, turning the larger implications over and over in his mind as he finished the last button and started rolling up his cuffs just so.

That was when Jack heard a familiar voice behind him.

“So, you got your happy ending then? Tearful bedside confessions and all? C’mon, I bet there were tearful bedside confessions. Otherwise what’s the _point_.”

Jack turned, with a weary smile. “John.”

“The one and only.” John marched into the room, indicating his vortex manipulator. “Would you believe your friend didn’t even try and steal this from me at the last minute. She just gave it right back! They’re too honest for their own good, your little gang.”

Jack sighed. “Thank you” he said. “For your help.”

John stared at him for a moment, then gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Eye-candy owes me his life now, which is potentially fun.” He raised his hands at Jack’s look. “Joking! I’m joking! I wouldn’t dream of using this for my own wicked purposes. Cross my heart. ...Besides. I’ve been getting a bit fond of your office boy. He’s not a bad sort.”

Jack gave him a smile back; something told him that despite everything, John was telling the truth. Long experience, perhaps. And of course, it was only natural that anyone should grow to fond of Ianto. That was just good sense.

“Fucking _hell_ you’re smitten” John exclaimed, interrupting Jack’s thoughts. “Look at that. I mention him, and suddenly you’re all... blushy!”

“ _Blushy?!_ ” said Jack, indignant. “Who’s blushy?”

“You are” said John, grinning delightedly. “Blushing like a preteen with their first crush. Awful.”

Jack pouted, resentful.

John pouted too. “Aw, go on. Let me have this one. I deserve it, after all I’ve been through.”

“…Okay” Jack said, unable to resist an affectionate smile. Despite everything – or perhaps because of it – he was feeling magnanimous. “You got me there.” He looked down at John. “Really, though. Thanks. And not just for saving Ianto... you also saved my friends and my brother from the ship, and helped save the earth. You didn’t have to do that. If we’re talking debts, it’s way above and beyond what you owe me. That was… _good_ , John. You did something genuinely good for the world.”

John stared back at him for a moment, then grinned rather fixedly. “Sure did. Yeah, what you said.”

Jack squinted. Then he sighed. “You haven’t done that part yet, have you?”

“No, I absolutely have not” said John, letting out his breath in a relieved huff. “But! In my defense I was _just_ about to get on that...”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You’d forgotten all about it, hadn’t you?”

John winced. “...Pretty much, yeah.”

Jack put his hands on his hips with an indulgent sigh. “Well, go on then. Off you go.”

“See you in a few minutes” said John, hand on his vortex manipulator. “Off to steal some hazmat suits and such.” And he teleported away.

But within a second, he was back, making Jack jump. “Ah! Do you really always have to–”

“Yes, and you know it” interrupted John, patting him on the cheek. “One more thing, before I go? I’m gonna need a note to plant for past me. Specifically, after our little argument by the warehouse. Pretty please?”

Jack gave a wry smile, reaching over to a nearby desk and rummaging around for a pen and pad of paper. “Space-time coordinates, right?”

“From you? My past self won’t be able to resist. Trust me, I know.”

After John had told him the coordinates, Jack signed the note with his initials and slid it over to John. “There... that good enough for you?”

John gave a contemplative pout. “It’s missing something” he said.

Before Jack could ask, John had plucked the pen from his hand and drew a heart after Jack’s initials. “There” he said, pleased with himself. “That’ll get me good and interested.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” said John. He rolled his eyes. “You know, it does say JH. There’s nothing explicitly saying it can’t be from both of us, to past me. ... _Oh_ , but that takes me back. Remember that time, when we nearly caused a paradox because we–”

“Vividly” interrupted Jack. He shook his head, smiling. “Go on.”

“See you in a minute” said John with a nonchalant wave, and disappeared.

True to his word, it was only a few minutes before he was back, panting, dressed in a battered-looking hazmat suit that was half unzipped, and laughing to himself as he appeared in front of Jack. “Ha!” he said, arms coming down on Jack’s shoulders. “All done. Do I get my reward now?”

“The reward is you get to keep that” he said, pointing at John’s vortex manipulator. “You get to leave this planet.”

John raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. “Well. Guess that’s what I’ve been wanting all this time.” He frowned, looking up at Jack as though about to say something. “Oh! Nearly forgot. I got you something. Think of it as a little goodbye gift...”

Instantly Jack was suspicious; the fact that John appeared to be drawing a gun didn’t do much to ease his concerns. But a moment later, John presented the grip of the gun to him. “Remember this?”

Jack blinked. “But... that’s… my squareness gun!”

“Your what now?”

“...Never mind. That’s my sonic blaster!”

“Your vintage Villengard, yeah. The second one of the pair.”

“But I thought I lost it years before I left the Time Agency! I was managing with only one, and the batteries kept going flat! I looked everywhere for this!”

John smirked. “Well, it _was_ stolen.”

Jack glared at him, outraged. “You bastard! You promised you didn’t know anything about it!”

John shrugged. “Well, at the time, I didn’t!” he said, dancing away when Jack started to march towards him. “What happened to the other one of the pair, anyway?”

“Lost that too” said Jack, frowning. “After I left.”

John tutted. “See? Careless” he said. “You should be thanking me.”

Jack gave a resigned sigh, putting the gun through his belt loop; he needed to find a new holster somewhere soon. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Any time.” John patted the gun at his hip, brushing his backside just a little. “Actually, not any time. Now that’s all done, I’m off this backwater planet, and not a moment too soon.”

Jack nodded. “Good for you.”

“Guess you’re not tempted to come along...?”

“Good guess.”

John nodded. “Fine. But...” he frowned. “Look, I hate to be all health and safety about this. But... you heard what we did, yes?”

“With the other timeline?” said Jack. He winced, guessing what was coming. “Yeah.”

“Uh-huh. Just... be careful, okay? I tried to make sure they sealed the edges of the old timeline, as clean a break as possible you know. But all of us did have to come through.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Look, all I’m saying is, be prepared for it to get a little STICky. Especially with that bloody great Rift you live on. And while we’re on the subject, I hope you’re taking him far away from there.”

“I’m taking Ianto back home to Cardiff” said Jack stiffly.

John snorted, before his face went rapidly serious again. “Bloody hell, you’re not joking.”

“He needs to go home” said Jack. “And some of us still have jobs to do. Big clean-up to start on.”

“I was gonna say you should get him at least to the other side of the planet if not off it, but–”

But Jack cut him off. “We’re going _home_.”

“ _Javic_...” John stared at him, annoyance on his face. “Are you an idiot? Did you forget first year of cadet school, and all those damn cautionary tales they told us?”

“It’ll be fine” said Jack. “There’s no danger of STIC. I’ll be careful.”

But John persisted. “I can’t believe it’s me telling you this, but... Bessel-van Chant! The e’Liaran-beta cluster! All that shit we had to do case studies on!”

“I’m pretty sure you got drunk and skipped those lessons, then copied my assignments after” said Jack.

“Which is why I _know_ you know I’m right!” snapped John, hands on his hips.

Jack stared back at him, meeting his eye. Then he sighed, drawing back and folding his arms. “I don’t want to have this conversation” he said. “I’ve been living on that Rift for more than a century, and I know the way time and space flows around it. And more than anything, I want to keep Ianto safe” he said. He laid a hand on John’s shoulder. “Trust me. Everything will be fine.”

John glared at him for just a moment more before giving a deep sigh, shrugging and pulling away. “Fine... your funeral. Uh. So to speak.”

Jack smiled. “So, this is goodbye, then?”

“Until next time.”

Jack nodded. “Until next time.” He was sure, with his immortality and John’s restored vortex manipulator, that they’d see each other again sooner or later.

They were silent as John stared at him for a moment more, but there was a different look in his face. Then John leaned in and kissed him very gently, lips pressing lightly to his. Jack stood very still, letting John have this.

“You know, you were the love of my life, I think” John said, drawing back and squinting at Jack. “Whatever the hell that means.”

Jack sighed. “If you’re expecting me to–”

But he broke off, as John put his hand over his mouth. “ _Please!_ You don’t have to let me down gently. And for fuck’s sake, _please_ don’t try and comfort me. Just...” he shrugged. “Wanted you to know.”

Jack nodded. “I know” he said, smiling a little as he stared past John. “I’ve lived a lot of different lives. You were part of one of them, but I’m not that man anymore. Not the one you fell in love with.”

“I _know_ ” said John, rolling his eyes.

“I’m... sorry.”

John patted him on the arm. “No you’re not.”

“...Okay. Yeah, you got me there. I like who I am now.”

At that point, the door flew open; both of them turned at the same time to see Gray approaching them. “Oh, you again” said John, but Jack thought it sounded more affectionate than it would have before. John poked Gray in the shoulder as he came to stand beside them, taking the opportunity while he was distracted to steal back the katana that was hanging from Gray’s belt loop. “Thank you, I’ll be having that back now.”

Gray sighed. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

“Gray!” Jack said, pulling his brother into a hug. “Tosh told me what you did. And you officially work for Torchwood now I hear?”

Gray smiled, self-conscious. “It was only a matter of time, I guess.”

Jack grinned and put his hand on Gray’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Okay, this brotherly bonding is getting too much for me” he said. “So I’m gonna go, unless...” he looked speculatively at Gray. “Seeing as _he’s_ pretty definitively turned me down...” he pointed at Jack, “and you look like him, what would you say to a bit of–”

But he was cut off when both Jack and Gray gave him matching glares. “Okay, okay! I was only joking. ...You probably wouldn’t have let me call you Javic anyway, so...”

“I can take that sword back and stab you with it” said Gray, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, tell me more...”

“Alright” said Jack smoothly, beginning to push John away. “Time to teleport your ass out of here...”

“Hate to see me leave, love watch me go...”

“Close enough” said Jack. “Bye, John.”

“You and Eye-candy better invite me to the wedding. And there better be an open bar...”

“ _Goodbye_ , John.”

John gave him a final grin and a blown kiss, then activated his vortex manipulator, disappearing in a flash of blue-white.

Jack relaxed slightly, leaning forwards.

Gray was at his shoulder. “Are you blushing? After the thing he said about the wedding–”

“Hey!” exclaimed Jack. “Why the hell does everyone think I’m blushing?”

“Everyone?”

“...Never mind” said Jack, blushing.

“Okay” said Gray. “Well, I’m glad you’re... alive again.”

Jack laughed, grudgingly. “Thanks.”

“But I was sent here to fetch you by Gwen.”

He straightened up. “Oh?”

“Yeah” said Gray. “She told me to tell you… Alice and Steven Carter are down in the reception, waiting to see you. Johnson brought them in just now.”

Jack grinned. “Oh, good. ...Wanna come meet the rest of the family?”

Gray gave a tentative smile. “Yeah” he said. “That’d be nice.”

* * *

Lois sat on the narrow bench of her cell with her knees up and her arms folded across them, head leaning in the corner between her elbow and the wall. It wasn’t very comfortable, but she was past caring now; she’d long given up shouting out into the corridor. The last time anyone had come to her cell had been when they’d let her out for a bathroom break under heavily armed guard, and the time they’d slipped a tray of food with flimsy plastic cutlery through the door and immediately locked it again.

That had been at least six hours ago now.

She’d thought they'd brought Captain Jack Harkness here earlier, and put him in the next cell. She thought she’d heard his voice – could have sworn she heard him talking to the guards – but the memory felt odd, sort of hazy, as though it had perhaps happened in a dream.

When she asked the guard who brought her food, she was told the cell had always been empty, and to stay quiet. Then the door had been slammed in her face.

Now it was night time, and despite everything, the lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her. Lois felt tired, right down to her bones. She'd been tired when they brought her here, coming down from the constant adrenaline of days of nervous fear. But this was the first time she’d managed to come close to sleep in her cell.

She was drifting, halfway in a dream – a spindly, hooked arm, curling slowly tighter around the chest of a figure without a face as she watched, powerless, from behind a sheet of glass – and halfway in the waking world, the hard bench and the muffled sounds of footsteps and muted voices out in the hall keeping her from falling fully asleep.

A moment later though, she realised the significance of this; _voices?_ The guards barely spoke. That woke her a little more, making her raise her head and shake out the pins and needles from her hand where she’d been lying on it.

And then the door in front of her swung open.

Standing in the doorway was a man, silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor behind him.

After her eyes adjusted to the light she recognised him immediately. “Captain Harkness!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on? I was wondering if you knew–”

“Lois Habiba.” He stepped inside the cell, the light from the corridor falling on him sidelong, picking out his features. She saw the edge of his mouth turn up in a smile. “I’ve come to get you out of here.”

She blinked, putting her feet on the floor. “You’ve–”

He raised a hand, cutting her off. “I’ve managed to pull some strings, but don’t thank me yet. There’s one condition.”

Her shoulders slumped. She should have expected it wouldn’t be so easy. She wondered what it would be; a fine, community service perhaps... or maybe she was being transferred to somewhere worse. Still, at this point she felt as though very little could be worse than this, confined within this cell with no idea of what was going on outside. If she got out even for a little while, she could at least find out what had happened. “What is it?” she asked.

He folded his arms, leaned against the door frame. “Gwen offered you a job before, right? Well, I’m her boss. So, I’m here to make it official.”

Lois’s eyebrows shot up. “Wh-what?” She couldn’t possibly imagine what she could do for Torchwood now; surely the past few days had been an exception.

To her surprise, he came to sit down beside her on the bench, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. He’d left the door open, and a little space between them. He turned his head and looked at her. “The next few months at Torchwood Three, we’re gonna need all the help we can get” he explained. “First of all, there’s gonna have to be a massive clean-up operation; I don’t know if you know, but your former boss kinda blew up our base.” He laughed softly. “So we’re already at a disadvantage. I’ll need good people to help me pick up the slack. Especially with one of my best agents strictly on light duties as he recovers, and another who’ll be going on maternity leave soon.”

“But... but what can I do?” Lois blurted. “I’m just a PA, I don’t know about… aliens, or anything like that.”

Jack smiled, leaning his head back against the wall. “Not many do when they start out. And that’s by design” he said. He looked at her. “But you’re _good_ , Lois Habiba. You’re smart, and you can learn. Become a field agent eventually if you want. Or not. ...Besides, I’ve been learning too; I’ve learned we need people like you. Maybe it’s time Torchwood had someone who can do what you do, hmm? If these last few days have taught me anything, it’s that we need someone who knows how to stand up to politicians, and has the guts – and the patience – for it. We need a diplomat. So...” he gave her a winning smile. “What d’you say?”

Lois stared. “I’m in prison, though!” she said, unable to think of anything else. “I committed treason! They’re not going to let me out just because you say so.”

“Oh, yes they are. Like I said, I’ve pulled a couple of strings. Called in some favours for my troubles these last few days.”

“...Okay.” She stared at him. “And what’ll happen if I don’t come?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “You won’t... have to kill me or something, will you?”

Jack burst out laughing. “Not really our style.” He gestured around the cell. “If you don’t come, I can still get you out of here. Torchwood owes you a debt, after all. But I’d really like it if you did come work for me in Cardiff.” That bright smile, again. “And you are gonna need a new job.”

She squinted at him. “Do you often recruit people directly from jail?”

“Once before.” He gave a fond smile, as though thinking back. “And in that instance, it definitely worked out.”

She frowned. “...Right.”

“So?” he said. “Is that a yes, then?”

“...Um. Yeah” Lois said, unable to restrain a smile of her own; for the first time in five days, she felt a great sense of hope, her fear still present but fading into the background. “Yes, I guess it is.” She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in her, spilling out as she glanced around the cell. “You know, this is the weirdest job interview I’ve ever had!”

Jack got up from the bench, pausing to look back at her from the door with a shrug, the hint of a smile. “Yeah, well. Welcome to Torchwood, Lois Habiba.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, especially since it was just a bunch of people talking to each other the whole time (but I think we all need a bit of communication in our fanfics now and then)
> 
> Anyway in other news I changed my url on tumblr, I'm now @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe (which I've gone back and edited in the notes of this fic) ....feel free to pay me a visit there, and/or drop me a comment here to let me know what you think!!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of warnings for this chapter: one reference to drug use (not shown) as well as a sex scene that is not in any way explicit, but does get a little further than the previous ones in this fic before fading to black.

_**[Three weeks later]** _

“Right, Ianto” said Owen. “You know the drill by now. But I don’t really want to tell you to blow into a tube with Jack in the room, so...”

Jack made a shocked face. “I’m behaving myself!”

“Only reason I didn’t ban you from sitting in on Ianto’s checkups. Ianto, you can still kick him out yourself at any given moment, you know? Just saying, patient confidentiality and that. Now, blow in the bloody tube.”

Ianto did, and Owen took the spirometer back and peered at it, nodding as he noted down the reading. “Hmm. Lung capacity’s almost back to normal. Your breathing still sounds a little wheezy though, and it’s likely there’s some scarring to the lung tissue. ‘Course, there could be a psychosomatic element – tied to the trauma of the whole thing - but it’s hard to separate from the physiological causes this early. We’ll monitor it. In the meantime, keep taking the tablets, and the inhaler when the breathlessness gets bad. And no strenuous activity, for now.” He put his hand up in Jack’s face. “Nope. Not a _word_ out of you, Harkness.”

“I didn’t say anything!” protested Jack, the picture of innocence. “...This time...” he pointed an accusatory finger at Ianto. “ _He’s_ the bad influence. Look at him smirking!”

“I’m not smirking, I’m thinking longingly of my days of chasing weevils through the Cardiff sewers” Ianto said, deadpan. “Alas, alien asthma may have put those behind me.”

“We’ll see” said Owen. “Like I said, we don’t exactly know how this’ll pan out. The other patients have similar lingering symptoms to yours, but we don’t know what this thing does long-term.” He frowned. “The _alien asthma_ , as you put it, could be gone in a few weeks, or it could last for the rest of your life.”

Ianto nodded.

Owen gave him a stern look. “Also, no more smoking. I know you still do it sometimes when you’re stressed; cheeky one outside the tourist office and all that.”

Ianto glared at him. “That was once last year! ...At _most_ twice.”

“Wait, really?” Jack put in. “I thought you quit?”

Ianto glared at Owen. “See what you’ve done?” he turned to Jack. “I _did_ quit. And I certainly will now.” He turned back to Owen. “And don’t think I don’t know who mysteriously misplaced that little bag of white powder that was on that blowfish before it could be archived...”

“That wasn’t... okay, that was _once!_ One night… well, maybe there was enough for two nights, but I was really going through it back then. And it’s _not_ the same” protested Owen, as the two of them looked daggers at each other and Jack stared from one to the other. He sighed, relenting. “You know too much for your own good.”

Ianto’s glare dropped from his face too. “I know” he said, smiling tiredly up at Owen. “...I won’t smoke anymore” he reassured them both, letting Jack squeeze his hand.

Owen nodded. “Good. What about the headaches?” he asked.

“Still the same. Not _bad_ , really, but not improving.”

Owen frowned. “Yeah, the others are reporting the same” he said. “Martha’s been taking another look at your scans, and there’s no obvious physiological cause, no neurological issues we can detect… Jack, your Professor Stella Courtney got back to us, and she says the same.”

Jack frowned. “Well, if even Stella couldn’t find anything...”

“It’s fine” put in Ianto. “It’s not too bad, I can take it.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “I know you _can_ , but the point is more that you shouldn’t _have_ to. That’s the point of the treatment, idiot.” But his tone was affectionate.

“Yes, well” said Ianto, shrugging.

“What about... psychologically?” put in Jack, apprehensive.

“That depends” said Owen. “Ianto? Any more nightmares?”

“Not since that one three… no, two nights ago. The one I already told you about. But I barely remember it.”

Owen nodded. “Anything else? Sudden changes of mood? Panic attacks?”

Ianto shrugged, clearly self-conscious about being under such scrutiny. “Mostly, I just want to get out of this hospital” he confessed. “Never liked these places.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re pretty much okay to leave now. Physically, at least. We’ll have to keep an eye on the psychological stuff once we get back to Cardiff.” He patted Ianto’s shoulder. “A little bit of normality should do us all some good.”

“Normality being a relative term” said Ianto.

“I mean, that goes without saying.” Owen looked up at Jack. “I’m trusting you to tell me if there’s anything wrong” he told Jack. “Anything happens, and he’s too bloody stubborn, or stoic, or whatever… you tell me, see?” He gave Ianto a stern look. “Don’t give me that look, Jones. It’s for your own good.”

* * *

Ianto walked down the ward hand in hand with Jack on the way to the exit. Despite the slight tightness in his chest, Ianto could barely keep the smile off his face. All around, there were nurses cleaning up empty beds; most of the other Thames House patients had already been discharged, their cases less advanced than his had been when Owen had got to treating them.

The few that hadn’t left yet were due to go soon, sitting up in bed or walking around in the sunshine streaming through the windows, giving Ianto smiles and nods as he passed.

“Morning Ianto! On your way home already?”

“Later today” he told Amnah, who had worked as a security guard at Thames House. “And you?”

“Tomorrow!” she told him. “I’ve even got a new job lined up for after all this. They’re seconding me to MI6 front desk security! ...Once my breathing improves, that is.”

“That’s wonderful, Amnah.” He smiled. “Give James Bond my love...”

She laughed as he passed by. “Will do.”

There was a low whistle as they came to the next occupied bed. “Oh, is _that_ your boyfriend? ...My _god,_ Ianto, I thought you were just bragging” said Robert, who’d worked in the canteen, “you’re a lucky lad, and all.”

“Thanks!” Jack yelled out, beaming.

Ianto couldn’t help but laugh, as he came up to Mhairi the nurse. She too gave him a grin. “Bless you, sweetheart” she said, spreading a clean sheet on the bed. “Send me a postcard when you get back to Cardiff!”

“I will” he promised. “And I hope the wedding goes well. I’ll bet you anything Fraser _does_ decide to come after all.”

“You’re welcome to come too, if you like.”

“I just might, if I can get some time off work.”

“You’re on medical leave!” put in Jack.

Ianto patted him on the shoulder appeasingly. “Of course I am.”

As they left the ward and turned into the corridor they went silent for a moment as they headed towards the lift. It was a joyful, companionable sort of silence, but once the doors closed Jack turned to look at Ianto, catching his eye in the scratched mirror. “Heard Tosh told you about... the other version of what happened? The other timeline?”

Ianto’s face froze; they hadn’t talked about it yet, but he knew Jack had been told too. Only, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. Not directly, not so soon. “Yeah” he said, still looking at Jack only in the mirror. “She did.”

The lift juddered into motion, heading down. Jack was still holding on to his hand, and Ianto felt his fingers squeeze a little tighter. “Ianto, I–”

But then the lift doors opened, a family on the way to some other ward filing in laden with bunches of flowers and grapes, and the two of them were forced to separate, making space.

Once they reached their floor, the moment had passed.

Still, Ianto thought. There would be time now. Perhaps not much of it, perhaps not uninterrupted. But there would be time.

And for now, that was enough.

* * *

“Lois?”

Lois raised her head, getting up and smiling when she saw Gwen come into the reception waiting area. She extended her hand to shake, but to her surprise Gwen drew her in for a hug, like they were old friends.

“I was so glad to hear you told Jack yes” said Gwen, pulling back and smiling warmly at her.

Lois thought it best not to point out that she hadn’t had many other options. “Thanks for putting in a word for me” she said as Gwen led her out of the waiting room.

“Not a problem. We need people like you” said Gwen, leading her along the corridor and past a kiosk. “Buy you a cuppa?” offered Gwen. “Got a long day ahead of us...”

“...Tea would be lovely, thanks. Milk, no sugar” said Lois, and Gwen smiled, going to the kiosk and buying them both hot drinks in paper cups. Gwen took a sip of her coffee. “Nnn, instant cappuccino sachets” she said, making a face. “Tastes like Ianto’s disapproval. Still, it’s caffeine I guess.”

Lois laughed nervously. “Will I get to meet the rest of the team?” she asked Gwen, sipping her tea. “I mean, obviously when we get back to Cardiff I’ll meet the rest of them, but I thought maybe the, um... delegation that came here...”

Gwen turned around and gave her a curious look. “How many people did Jack tell you he’s got working for him?”

Lois blinked. “Um... he didn’t” she realised.

Gwen was laughing, though not at her Lois thought. “Well, full disclosure: you’ll meet everyone on the way. There’s me and Jack and Ianto, Owen and Tosh. My lovely husband Rhys you’ve met already, but he’s not really Torchwood... occasionally consults for us, I guess you could say. Then there’s Gray, Jack’s brother, though apparently he’ll officially be part of Torchwood from now on? I dunno exactly how that happened, there’s a lot to figure out after all this and we’ve been busy.” Gwen smiled. “One minibus-full, basically. Give or take a few extra passengers.”

“That’s it?” Lois asked, before she could stop herself. From the way Jack had talked it had seemed like a much larger operation.

But she didn’t have a chance to ask, as Jack’s voice came booming from the double swing doors down the corridor. “Lois! You made it!”

“Captain Harkness.” Lois smiled, reaching out to shake his hand, but instead got pulled into another big hug. She was beginning to think she’d have to get used to that. As Jack let her go, she heard a small noise of amusement from behind Jack, and recognised the other man that she’d seen on the video feed to Thames House. He looked rather tired and wan, but he was smiling too.

“Oh, you must be Mister Jones” she said, extending her hand to him. It was going to be a hard habit to break. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things I hope.” For the first time today she actually did get a handshake back, though a more earnest one than she was used to in professional settings, and accompanied by a wry smile. “And please do call me Ianto." He inclined his head politely. "Nice to meet you at last. And thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to get involved with this.”

“I did” said Lois simply, a little more of her apprehension ebbing away.

Gwen grinned, coming in and pulling Ianto into a big hug of her own, one-armed as she held the coffee cup out of harm's way. “Come here, you” she said, a little teary. “Glad to see you on your feet again.”

“Yes, well” he said, eyeing the cup with a scrunch of his nose, a small expression of distaste. “Instant cappuccino? _Please._ You’d be lost without me.”

Gwen laughed, giving Lois a _see what I mean?_ look.

“Aw, don’t I get one of those?” said Jack to Gwen, giving her an exaggerated pout.

“The hug or the coffee?”

“The hug. _Duh_.”

Gwen laughed and hugged Jack next, patting him on the top of the head as she let him go. “Happy?”

Jack gave her a brilliant smile, linking his arm loosely through Ianto’s. “Yep.”

At that moment the door down the corridor opened and two people stepped through, a man and a woman.

“That’s Gray, and that’s Tosh” explained Gwen, as Lois stepped forward to introduce herself.

“Welcome to Torchwood, Lois” said Tosh, giving her a smile. “Thanks for the footage, by the way. It's me that’s been handling the release of it and the negotiations with the interim cabinet before the election. In case you didn’t hear, they announced there’s going to be an independent inquiry into the whole thing. But it’s not really my area of expertise, so I’d appreciate your help.”

Lois raised her eyebrows, suddenly nervous. “Will I have to… I mean, will I be able to get some time off to testify at the inquiry hearings?”

“You won’t be called to them” said Jack. “We released the footage, but just enough to bring down the people at fault. Anything that might disclose your identity has been redacted from the files. Standard practice for both whistleblowers and Torchwood agents, so you’re okay twice over.”

Lois released the breath she’d been holding; she’d been dreading the prospect of standing up before a court and talking about what she’d seen. “Thank you” she said. She frowned. “What about John Frobisher and Bridget Spears?” she had to admit she’d been curious. “What... what’s going to happen to them?”

“My best guess?” said Tosh. “Nothing.” She shrugged. “The inquiry is into the actions of the Prime Minister and the other elected officials involved. It’s very likely that the civil servants will keep their jobs, and won’t even become household names when the scandal breaks. Provided they keep their heads down, that is.”

Lois frowned, unsure how she felt about this.

“ _But_ , Frobisher’ll owe us a favour. Lots of them, in fact” said Jack. “Which I plan to use to keep tabs on the new government, make sure they’re not going behind our backs again. In fact, that’ll be one of your new duties, Lois. We’ll talk about it when we get back to Cardiff.” He winked. "We're still off the clock right now."

“...Speaking of which” said Gwen, looking at her watch, “where the hell is Owen? Rhys said he’d have the minibus waiting in the carpark in a few minutes. Owen’s going to make us late.”

Even as she said the words a door down the corridor opened. “Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a knot Gwen” said the man walking through it, followed by another man and a woman in medical scrubs. “I’m here. Just doing the final rounds before I leave the remaining patients to Martha.” He leaned over and kissed Tosh on the cheek. “But I’m ready to go home now. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the quiet life of Torchwood Cardiff.”

Tosh laughed. “Me too!”

“Martha! Mickey!” said Jack in the meantime, bounding forward to the other two. “You two gonna be okay handling the rest of the London clean-up yourselves?”

“Sure thing, Captain” said Mickey, giving Jack a playful salute. “Not much left, really.”

“Yeah” said Martha. “I’m volunteering here at least until all the Thames House patients have been discharged, but it shouldn’t be too much longer.” She slipped her arm through Mickey’s. “After that, who knows? We might take you up on that offer to come visit you in Cardiff.”

Jack smiled. “If you’re not too busy saving the world, I guess” he said.

Mickey winked at him. “You got it.”

* * *

After that it didn’t take long to get them all out to the front of the hospital, where a minibus was waiting in the car park. As they approached Rhys honked the horn, poking his head out the driver's window. “’Bout time!” he exclaimed. “D’you know what parking’s like outside a hospital? And in central London, too!” he nodded at Lois, as they approached. “Got your boxes picked up from your old flat. It’s all in the back.”

She smiled. “Thanks” she said.

“Did you manage to find somewhere reasonable to live in Cardiff?” inquired Ianto. “I would have offered to help with the househunting, seeing as I know the city rather well, but I was...” he smiled, ruefully, “...not really at my best, these last few weeks.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You nearly died, Ianto” she said. “Anyway, Lois’s new flat is all sorted, don’t worry.”

He nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

As they approached the minibus, the door opened, and to Lois’s surprise a little boy ran out, blond hair flying in the wind as he ran headlong towards them. “Uncle Jack!”

“Hey, soldier!” Jack laughed, sweeping the boy up into his arms. “How’ve you been doing?”

“Mum says we’re going home!” he chirped, arms around Jack’s neck. “And she said you said you’d visit us more now!”

“Did she now?” said Jack, as a woman got out of the minibus at a somewhat slower pace, and began chatting amiably to Ianto and Gray on the edge of the pavement. Lois watched as Jack ruffled the boy’s hair, setting him down again. “Well, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Who’s that?” Lois asked Gwen, certain she was missing something.

“That’s Steven. We’re dropping him and his mother Alice off on the way.”

“Jack's sister and nephew...?” _Uncle Jack_ , the boy had called him.

“Daughter and grandson, actually” said Gwen, then smiled at Lois’s confusion. “C’mon, we’ve got a long drive. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

* * *

By the time they’d finally dropped everyone else off, it was nearly dark. They’d brought Alice and Steven home first, letting Alice invite them in for Chinese takeaway, all eating together in her front room. After Steven had fallen asleep curled up on the sofa, Jack had waited until Alice had carried her son up to bed, taking it as their cue to go. And so the rest of them had got back into the minibus and driven into the city to drop Lois at her new flat by the bay. They'd all pitched in to help her move the boxes up the stairs, except for Ianto who had been banned from heavy lifting under strict orders from Owen and Jack, which he had submitted to with only minimal argument. But with all of the rest of them helping, it wasn't too long before they were all piling back into the bus.

Then it had been Gray, Owen and Tosh; since Gray had lost his home in the Hub, Tosh had offered her flat for him to stay in while she went home with Owen. At last they’d said goodbye to Gwen and Rhys too, Gwen half asleep in the passenger seat as Rhys drove the now empty minibus away into the damp Cardiff night.

That had left Jack and Ianto standing together under a streetlight that was just being switched on, as a fine drizzle whispered down from the cloudy sky.

It all seemed so _normal_ , it was almost jarring. For a moment Jack just stood, letting himself breathe in a lungful of exhaust pollution and the mingled scent of tarmac and rain, in the city he’d called home for over a century. Then Ianto tugged his sleeve, bringing him back to reality, and together they walked up the stairs to Ianto’s flat.

As soon as they reached it, it was clear that something was not right.

“They’ve forced the door” said Ianto, running his fingers over the crowbar marks on the wooden frame with a sigh. “I suppose it was Johnson and her heavies, looking for me the night the Hub was blown up.”

Jack sighed. “Tomorrow we can see about getting your repair bills paid by the people responsible... or, if you don’t feel like staying on the phone with some low-level civil servant for hours, you can just charge it to Torchwood.”

Ianto gave him an incredulous look. “Jack, when’ve you ever known me to shy away from a long argument with a government official? Especially when the matter is one of principle only? It’s _you_ that gets bored with that sort of thing after five minutes.”

Jack laughed. “Point taken. I wouldn’t wanna be up against you in that particular war of attrition.”

“So long as it’s telephone-based” agreed Ianto, opening the door. “Oh, well. Home sweet – _oh_...” he stopped on the threshold, Jack bumping into him from behind as Ianto surveyed the scene inside.

It was even worse than it had looked from outside. The flat had evidently been ransacked, Ianto’s coatstand and shoe rack knocked down in the hallway; through the far door Jack could see into the living room where the bookcase had been knocked down, sending books and DVDs scattering across the floor amid the sofa cushions, which had been pulled out and cut open.

Ianto rolled his eyes, pushing open the door to the bedroom and switching on the light. The mattress had been pulled off the bed, feathers from slashed pillows spilling across the carpet like a blanket of snow. “For fuck’s sake” said Ianto stiffly, as Jack came up beside him and put his arm around his shoulder. “Did they really think I was likely to be hiding under the bed like a bloody eight-year-old? Or did they think I cleverly stashed a coded note containing my location inside one of my pillows?”

“People do weirder things when they’re on the run” said Jack, rubbing circles on Ianto’s shoulder. In all of this, he hadn’t spared much of a thought for what Ianto and the others had gone through between the bomb blast and breaking him out of the concrete. He’d had other things on his mind – especially these last weeks in the hospital, and handling damage control in London – but now it hit him, strong and painful.

He didn’t want Ianto to have to be alone, ever again.

Ianto sighed. “Sorry about all this.”

But Jack shook his head firmly. “ _Not_ your fault.” He gave Ianto’s shoulder another squeeze.

“I know. And I don’t really care about my stuff, I just mean...” Ianto stared around. “I guess it was too much to hope for, to come back and have everything be just the same. But you... you lost your home in all this too. I wanted to bring you somewhere familiar and safe tonight. Home.”

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat at the implication, before pulling Ianto into his arms. Ianto had lost some of his softness during his illness; his body felt a little more angular, his eyes shadowed. Jack made a mental note to make sure Ianto ate well and got enough sleep. He wasn’t good enough, normally, at putting his foot down about it. “I’ve got all I need” he said into Ianto’s hair. He drew back, starting to tug Ianto back out into the corridor. “C’mon. If it makes you feel better about it all, I’ll help you start to clean it all up. Or… wait. I’ll clean up, you should get some rest, and–”

“Jack.”

Jack stopped as Ianto caught his sleeve from behind. “What?”

“Stop” said Ianto, meeting him in the bedroom doorway, dropping the rucksack containing his medication to the floor and pulling Jack in by his sleeve. “Not tonight.”

Jack blinked. “I can–”

“No.” Ianto put a finger over Jack’s lips, definitively silencing him. “We start cleaning this up tomorrow.”

Jack nodded. “Good idea. I’ll get the mattress back into place, and we can go to sleep and start to–”

“ _No_ ” said Ianto again, pressing forward. This time Jack realised what he was getting at as he pressed his thigh between Jack’s, pushing him back up against the door frame and bringing his face close.

“ _Ianto..._ ” breathed Jack, trying not to move too much lest Ianto feel how his body was reacting to this; it would only encourage him. “You’re still not back to full strength. You just got out of hospital–”

“Yeah” said Ianto against his lips, one hand coming up behind his head with his fingers lacing through Jack’s hair and pulling a little, in the way Ianto very well knew Jack liked. Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek at the way Ianto’s voice sounded. “I’m _out_ of hospital now, it’s been weeks and I’m _better_ , but you’re still treating me like I’m fragile. Like I’ll disappear on you any moment.”

Jack’s breathing hitched in his throat, “I nearly lost you, Ianto...”

“Well, you didn’t” whispered Ianto, tightening his grip in Jack’s hair just a little. His other hand was firm on the small of Jack’s back and traveling quickly downwards. “I’m not made of glass” he said against Jack’s jaw, voice vibrating through skin and bone, his breath – still slightly rasping – very warm against Jack’s cheek. “I’m here, and you’re here, and I’m bloody sick of waiting.” Ianto flicked his eyes back to meet Jack’s in the dim light, and Jack realised his hands had gone to Ianto’s waist like a reflex, like holding on for his life. “I survived, Jack” said Ianto, “in this timeline, here, now, I survived. I want you to make me feel _alive_.” A slow grin curled across his face as his hand shifted between them. “And I know you do too.”

If Jack had been holding off before, now the last of his restraint snapped like a worn rope. He leaned forward and kissed Ianto, hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. It felt so good, so right, that he could have cried. Instantly, Ianto leaned harder into the kiss, mouth opening under his. But too soon he pulled away, frowning.

Jack felt a flash of alarm. “What is it? Does it hurt? Are you–”

But Ianto was shaking his head, smirking. “You’re still being all... _delicate_ with me” he said. “I won’t break, Jack.”

Jack frowned back. “Well, tell me what you want me to – _ah_...”

The end of his sentence was lost as Ianto shoved him back against the doorframe, kissing him hot and rough and urgent, but somehow still with so much tenderness that it all but broke Jack’s heart.

When they drew apart Ianto’s eyes were dark, all pupil. Jack licked his lips, already feeling bereft as he obeyed the unspoken command in Ianto’s glance, taking one corner of the mattress and helping him pull it back onto the bed frame, brushing off feathery debris.

A moment later Jack found himself being pushed down on top of it, and this time he didn’t even try to resist.

* * *

Much later, in the dark hours of the night, Ianto was more than halfway to sleep.

He was falling, perhaps, tipping headfirst into a dream that he was almost – but not quite – aware of being such. For a dizzying moment he could feel himself in freefall, tumbling out of his own bed and out of Jack’s arms and out of reality itself, the blackness pressing in all around. It was not the void kind of blackness though; this Ianto knew, without knowing exactly how. It was more a close sort of blackness, the kind that was made of _no space_ instead of limitless expanse, and it was pressing in on his chest, crushing the breath from his lungs.

Then he realised there was something in the darkness: a low blue glow, shadows shifting and moving in the no-space. He blinked his eyes a few times, wondering where the light was coming from; for half a moment it seemed very important, before it disappeared from his mind.

Ianto squinted forward in the darkness, opening his mouth and trying to breathe, but there was still no air. He reached out, calling out for Jack, for anyone. But he had no voice, and his fingers met nothing as they grasped out in the dark.

 _No, wait_ ; his hand met something cold and flat in front of him. A sheet of glass, smooth and flawless. He could see his reflection in it, his own face lit up in that same pallid light, bloodless and unearthly.

There was a cut on his cheek, he saw in his reflection in the glass. Even here he knew that cut had healed, the scar pink and shiny and fresh across his cheekbone. And yet here it was again, and somehow in the strange logic of this place, he knew it would never heal.

The other version of him – the reflection, he told himself, just a reflection in the sheet of glass – had his eyes closed, perfectly still.

Filled with a creeping dread, Ianto tried to move his hands, bringing them to his face to check, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move his eyes either, or his lungs; he couldn’t breathe, and his chest grew tighter and tighter with panic, constricting him in his own body.

And the glass in front of him was growing closer, pressing towards his face, and it was so dark on the other side that all he could see was his own reflection. It was pressing in on both sides too, and behind him, he knew without having to look. Surrounding his body in a glass tomb, a coffin, and all he could do was watch, until–

“Ianto... _Ianto!_ Wake up!”

He gasped, in-drawn breath painful and tearing as he flinched back to wakefulness with his legs tangled in the sheets. Jack had turned on the bedside light, the soft glow illuminating the planes of his face in warm yellow gold. He was leaning over Ianto, hand against his cheek.

Ianto stared up at him for a moment as the world settled back into place around him. Heart hammering in his chest, breath ragged and sharp, lungs protesting.

“Ianto...” said Jack, reaching out to him and helping him sit up. Ianto went gladly, letting himself be pulled into Jack’s arms. “It’s okay, it was just a dream… you’re okay, you’re safe. I’m here...”

“Mmm” Ianto murmured into Jack’s shoulder; he was trying to breathe evenly, just to prove to himself he could. To keep up a rhythm; Jack’s heartbeat and the familiar smell and the warmth of him, and the small circles he was rubbing on Ianto’s back were helping, but it wasn’t enough. Ianto squeezed his eyes closed, bringing his arms up behind Jack and pressing two fingers against the pulse point on his own wrist, counting the beats, waiting for it to slow. His head was starting to ache, the same strange constricting pain he’d been getting ever since the hospital. He could feel it building at the base of his skull.

Ianto dropped his hands with a rasping sigh as Jack leaned away, rooting through the bag they’d dropped beside the bed earlier and pulling out Ianto’s inhaler. Ianto took it from him and inhaled gratefully; it helped a little, making it slightly easier to breathe. But the headache remained as he sat there in the bed, Jack’s arms loosely around his shoulders. After taking the inhaler from Ianto and putting it on the bedside table, Jack came close again, studying his face in the dim light.

“I’m… I’m fine” breathed Ianto, before Jack could speak. This was far from the first time he and Jack had done something like this, holding each other after one of them woke from a nightmare, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, Ianto knew. Even more so in the coming months, he was sure. He winced; the pain in his head was fading, but very slowly. “Just… you know.”

Jack nodded slowly, brushing a sweat-sticky tuft of Ianto’s hair off his forehead. Ianto wrinkled his nose at the sensation of it.

“You nearly died” said Jack. Ianto was grateful he didn’t mention the other timeline, even though they were both thinking it. “It’s a natural response.”

Ianto made a face; the dream was already starting to fade from his mind, but he could still feel the sense of it, the leftover emotion casting a pall over his heart. “Bloody unpleasant, though.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed Ianto’s forehead, soft and reassuring. “I know.” He drew back. “Want to talk about it?”

Ianto frowned, lying back on the pillows and drawing Jack down with him. “Not much to talk about, really” he said. “I don’t... remember all of it...” _there had been his own face, a copy or a reflection, or_ … but no, it was no use. When he tried to remember it the headache only got worse, not to mention the deep, aching sadness it brought with it. He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Jack lay down with him, head beside his on the pillow and a hand in Ianto’s hair. “Want to take one of Owen’s sleeping pills?”

“Not really” said Ianto. He did still feel sleepy, or not _not_ sleepy at any rate; besides, he’d had more than enough drug-induced sleep these last few weeks. He was sick of it, and sick of the grogginess that came when you woke up. He turned his head a fraction, looking at Jack in the dim light. “Distract me, please?” he asked Jack. “Tell me something... good. Something from... oh, I don’t know. Before. Space. Anything.”

Jack smiled a little. “Space, huh?”

“Tell me...” Ianto smiled slightly. “What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Apart from you, you mean?”

Ianto rolled his eyes, unable to resist a smile. “Flatterer.”

“It’s true, though!”

“No it’s not. I’m not from space.”

“You are for me” pointed out Jack.

Ianto blinked at him for a moment, struck by this. “I suppose you’re right” he conceded. “But really, though.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine looking through the plaster, through the upstairs flat and the roof above, up through the atmosphere and out to the edge of space, scattered with stars. Out through the unimaginable expanse of time itself, that lay between now and when Jack was – would be – born, on a far-off world. Thinking about it made him a little dizzy, but luckily Jack was still holding him tight. Lying back on the pillows and pulling Ianto down against his chest, encircled in his arms. “Tell me something beautiful, Jack” he said, very quietly. “Please?”

Pressed against the side of his head, he felt Jack’s mouth turn upwards in a small smile. “I saw a firebird, once” he said, voice soft in the night’s stillness. “A tiny little thing, even smaller than a hummingbird. Literally made of fire. It only lives for a minute. It blazes different colours and sings. It gets so bright, you have to close your eyes. And when you open them, it’s gone.” Jack pressed a kiss into Ianto’s hair, as unspoken things hung heavy around them. “But the image stays behind your eyelids, for longer than it was alive.”

The silence stretched out between them, contemplative.

“Jack” Ianto said at last.

“Hmm?”

“When I was… when I was dying” he said, forcing himself to continue; it seemed that if he didn’t say this now, in the dark of the night, then he never would. There were some truths the light of day should never touch. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t help but think, that one day you’d forget me."

“Never could.”

“A thousand years’ time… you wouldn’t remember me.”

“I will” said Jack, more forceful now. “I always will.” He stroked Ianto’s hair. “I love you, and I always will. And I’m a fixed point in time and space. So whatever happens, I’ll carry some part of you with me, until the very end of the universe.” He could hear the smile in Jack’s voice. “And then some.”

Ianto nodded against Jack’s chest, breathing a little easier as he realised he believed him entirely. “I wish I could be there with you.”

Jack went very still. “...No you don’t.”

“I mean, if you wanted me to be, that is–”

“Ianto” said Jack, cutting him off. “Immortality isn’t like you think. I would’ve thought you’d have seen enough by now, to know–”

“That’s not what I mean” Ianto insisted. “I just... don’t want you to be alone, Jack.” He laid his hand flat on Jack’s chest; he didn’t think they’d talked so earnestly and openly before, ever. “I know it’s a curse. I wouldn’t choose it for myself. But for you… well. You weren’t made to be alone” he said, shrugging. “And if there’s no one else, then I’d stay with you. If I could.” He didn’t know how else to explain it.

But Jack seemed to understand. He sighed, shaking his head and pulling Ianto closer and burying his face in his hair, muttering loving words that were muffled to an unintelligible hum.

And it was like that, curled together amongst the pillows, that they both fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was something of an interlude chapter, as I gear up to get into another Arc™ (Clue: it's not Miracle Day! I've got other stuff planned first! But that's spoilers at this juncture....) But it ended up being mostly Jack and Ianto talking about their feelings, and also Lois (whom I adore!). Which i regret absolutely none of.  
> Note: Stella Courtney is a character that appears in the Torchwood audio play The Dead Line, she's a neurologist that Jack dated in the 70s and I love her, so I couldn't resist giving her a shout-out here. Also, I think (?) maybe it was @engagemythrusters who gave me the "Ianto smoking occasionally and Jack hates it" headcanon? If not they definitely are responsible for making me adopt it, though, so a shout-out there. Owen stealing blowfish coke one time is my own stupid idea, as far as I'm aware. (These boys and their various coping mechanisms.......)  
> Anyway, hope you like this! Find me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe, and/or drop me a comment if you like :) More of this soon!


	24. Chapter 24

Jack woke slowly, the early morning sunlight making his closed eyelids glow a luminous red as he let himself linger on the edge between sleep and waking. He felt very pleasantly warm, something heavy draped across his chest. He was in no hurry to wake up properly just yet.

A moment later though his eyes did flicker open, and he realised that the thing weighing down the blanket was Ianto’s arm and leg, slung across him as he held him in his sleep. Jack couldn’t help but smile affectionately as he moved his head – as much as he dared without disturbing Ianto – to look at his sleeping face pressed against Jack’s collarbone, mouth slightly open as he slept.

For a while Jack just stared up at the ceiling, gently stroking Ianto’s hair and listening to him breathe. Ianto’s breathing still had that wheezy sound to it, and though it was concerning – he only hoped Ianto wasn't in pain – Jack knew Ianto had improved dramatically since those first, nerve-wracking days in the hospital, when he'd been too weak to move much and had needed oxygen every few hours. Even though Owen had said it was entirely possible that Ianto’s breathing would be affected for life, Jack was grateful for how far he'd come, and for whatever assurances he could get.

He was grateful for every part of this in fact; knowing what had almost happened – what _had_ happened, in that lost timeline – had made it all seem indescribably precious.

He ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair again, thinking of the conversation they’d had in the dark of the night. The nightmares were a worry too; Jack only wished he could take that pain away. At least he’d resolved to always be there with Ianto to help him through them, and that was probably the next best thing.

As Jack was thinking this the alarm on the bedside table rang. He reached out to turn it off, but not before Ianto stirred on his chest, raising his head and blinking sleepily up at him. “Mmmph. Too early” Ianto pronounced, before putting his head back down and promptly closing his eyes again.

Jack laughed, kissing the top of Ianto’s head. “Well, _I’m_ getting up.” He ran his fingers through Ianto’s hair one more time, starting to extricate himself. He grinned wickedly. “You don’t need to” he said. “You’re still officially on sick leave, after all. But some of us’ve gotta go start the clean-up operation.”

Sure enough, Ianto raised his head at this, giving Jack an indignant look. “’M not staying here for weeks. Owen can stuff it.”

“Owen and his professional medical advice, you mean?”

Ianto scowled, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. It was all standing up on one side of his head, which was cuter than it had any right to be, Jack thought. “Exactly” Ianto said, catching Jack’s wrist to keep him from getting out of bed, pulling him down again.

Jack laughed; the extent to which Ianto was not a morning person had surprised him to start with, with the way Ianto was the rest of the time, how he was always first in to the Hub in the mornings in the early days. Of course, Jack had soon learned the reason for that. But he had also learned that there were a lot of facets of Ianto that seemed contradictory at first glance that were anything but. And on top of that, he'd learned that he’d never get tired of coming to know them. “Well” he said, “if you want to tell Owen that to his face, you’re gonna have to get up, aren’t you?”

“Mmm.” Ianto cracked open an eyelid, pulling Jack down all of a sudden so he lost his balance, falling on top of him amongst the tangled sheets. Without missing a beat, he reached up and pulled Jack down into a kiss.

Jack let himself melt into it for a moment. “Ugh” he said as he pulled away, making an exaggerated face for effect. “Morning breath.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t see you objecting, oh, two seconds ago. Rather the opposite, in fact.”

“...Damn, you’re right” said Jack, letting himself be pulled down on top of Ianto once more, kissing him deeper, with less laziness and more fervour now. “And insatiable, it seems.”

“Cheating death’ll do that to you.”

“Don’t I know it” said Jack, and he let Ianto run his hands over his chest and down his back; they could be a little late today, he thought. They’d definitely earned it.

A little while later, Ianto’s third set alarm rang as they lay curled sweatily together amongst the sheets. This time, Ianto sat up first with a noise of displeasure. His hair was still sticking up at one side, even worse than before; Jack laughed. “Okay, _now_ we’re getting up” he said. “Again, you can stay home today if you _really–_ ”

“You and your bloody reverse psychology” broke in Ianto, beginning to roll out of bed despite his grumbling.

Jack grinned. “Oh, I could make you a coffee!” he said. “Special treat.”

“Don’t you _touch_ my coffee machine.” Ianto was on his feet now, hands on his hips, scowling at the wreckage that was still scattered around. “Oh, this is even worse than it looked last night...”

“I can help tidy up” said Jack. “If you want.”

But Ianto shook his head. “Go, have a shower and get dressed” he said. “I’ll start tidying in the meantime and inspect the damage in the kitchen. Get the coffee started, assuming the machine is okay.”

Jack nodded. “Make sure you take your meds, yeah? Owen labelled the ones for morning and evening.”

“I _know_ , Jack” said Ianto; there was exasperation in his voice, but it wasn’t as strong as the affection. He rooted through the turned-over drawers of his wardrobe, pulling out an old t-shirt and slipping it over his head. “It’s fine, there’s no need to worry.”

Jack nodded, going to get a towel from the cupboard in the hall. In the bathroom he smiled, seeing the toothbrush he usually kept here still in its place by the sink. The sight of it set off something in his heart, even amidst the mess in the flat. _Something like a home_ , he thought, getting in the shower.

And just as he turned on the water, he heard the doorbell ring.

* * *

Rhiannon bounced up and down on the balls of her feet impatiently as she stood outside the door in the stairwell. She’d never been to Ianto’s flat before; he’d always come around to hers or their mum’s since he moved back to Cardiff. She hadn’t rung the outer bell, slipping through behind a woman and her daughter from the ground floor, so she supposed it could still be the wrong building.

She certainly _hoped_ she had the right address though. If she didn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do. She couldn’t even go down to the bay and ask for Torchwood; not after the explosion she’d seen on the news, the whole bomb site cordoned off.

She rang the doorbell again, and then a third time to show she meant business. She was just about to start banging on the door when she heard a scuffling from inside, and a muffled shout through the door.

“Coming! Hang on a second, let me just–” the door opened, and there was her brother, barefoot, dressed in soft tartan pyjama trousers and an oversized t-shirt, his hair mussed with sleep. As he saw her he broke off mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. “Rhiannon?”

“Ianto!” she felt an overwhelming tide of relief wash over her. Not that she was going to let it stop her saying what she’d come here for. She put her hands on her hips, glaring up at him. “For god’s sake, would it kill you to phone and let me know you’re alive next time you go swanning off to London? How long’ve you been back, hmm? I’ve been phoning and phoning–”

“...Oh” he said, biting his lip. “I kind of–”

“Forgot? You don’t say.” All her pent-up frustration and worry and anger was rising to the surface all at once. “You tell me you’re going to fix the thing with the children, and I let you go off all beaten and bruised in Johnny’s car… then a few days later I get a phone call from you, and there’s you telling me you love me–"

“...Rhiannon...”

“–and that _scared_ me, Ianto, do you understand? I was scared you were going to do something bloody stupid and dangerous, and...” she paused, looking away from him to collect herself, forcing back hot tears, “...and then! Then we hear on the news it’s all over, and do I hear a single word from you? No! It’s been nearly a _month_! You could’ve been in prison for all I knew! You could’ve been _dead_!”

He winced. “Rhiannon, I... I was–”

“Shut it! I don’t care about your excuses!” she yelled. “Mum was worried too, you know? Asking and asking me if I knew where you were because she couldn’t get hold of you on your mobile – not that _that’s_ anything new, bloody hell – and what am I supposed to tell her? I couldn’t very well tell her about your mad alien stuff – bloody Torchwood, I swear to god Ianto! – and so I made up some shit about... oh, I don’t know, work stuff, civil service… but you know how she worries herself sick about you, after everything with Lisa and… and the way you were then. I had to reassure her you were still alive, while not even being sure myself because you never fucking bothered to give me a single _word_ , not even a damn _text_...” she broke off, angrily wiping the tears off her face as she looked up at him again. He was staring at her, mouth a little open, stunned into silence. She stared back, giving him a long, disdainful look.

And that was when she noticed just how different he looked. There was a pallor and a hollowness to him that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him; he’d lost a worrying amount of weight for the few weeks he’d been gone, his pyjamas hanging loose on him. Even though he’d obviously just woken up, his eyes looked shadowed and weary. It reminded her of how he’d looked when he’d come back from London before, but worse. And though she hadn’t known what had happened at the time, the comparison was not a comforting one.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, frowning. “Ianto...” she said, voice cracking. She wanted to ask what had happened to him, and where he’d been. She wanted to punch him in the face – she’d certainly pictured herself doing just that, on the way here – make him promise never to do anything like that to her again. She wanted to scream at him some more, right here on the doorstep where all the people in the other flats could hear.

But in that moment, she found that all she could do was reach forward and pull him into a crushing hug on the doorstep, bursting into tears against his shoulder. “Oh, Ianto.”

For a moment his whole frame went rigid, caught by surprise by the suddenness of it. Then he cautiously brought his arms up to hug her back, leaning his head on her shoulder and stifling a quiet sob of his own into her jacket. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest as she held him. His breathing sounded odd, irregular and with a kind of wheezing stiffness to it, like every breath was an effort. “I’m _sorry_ , Rhiannon” she heard him say, muffled in her shoulder. “I really, really am sorry. I’ve just been… look, I was in hospital for a bit, and you know, it’s hard to...”

“Hospital?” She pulled away, looking him up and down again, eyes wide. “What _happened_ to you, Ianto?” Another thought occurred to her, filling her with dread. “...Oh my god, are you sick? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you? Only, after mum, I don’t know if I can–”

“Rhiannon! Rhiannon...” he held his hands up, placating. “No, no I’m not sick. I promise.” He took a quick breath, which seemed to rattle in his chest. “I’m fine _now_ , really...”

“Please” she said, voice soft and worried now. “I’m sorry, I...” she broke off. “Please tell me?” She peered through the door behind him. “Look, can I come in? You must be cold out here, no socks on and all.” She laughed softly. “And I’ve probably annoyed all your neighbours.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Hmm? I’ll put the kettle on.”

He darted a glance behind him, suddenly wary. “Um, it’s not the best time...”

That was when she noticed the mess in the hallway behind him. “Oh my god, Ianto, what the hell happened?” she frowned, a little disturbed, and forced a laugh. “What, you have a party in here or something? Or did a horde of wild aliens stomp through?”

“Neither” said Ianto, shortly. “Look, Rhiannon. I promise I’m happy to see you, but I don’t know if now’s the best–”

“Ianto? Is someone at the door?”

Rhiannon froze at the sound of the other voice from inside the flat. American accented, brightly cheerful. She was just opening her mouth when another man appeared at the door next to Ianto, dressed in nothing but a towel around his waist, hair still damp from the shower.

She stared at him for a moment from the doorstep, slightly thrown by how distressingly handsome he was in the flesh – she recognised him immediately, but the pixelated photos she’d cajoled Ianto into showing her on his phone didn’t do him justice – before he gave her a dazzling grin, apparently in extremely good spirits. “Well, hello there… Ianto didn’t tell me we were expecting visitors. I would’ve dressed for the occasion. Oh well, gotta make do.” He extended a hand, roguishly cheerful. “Captain Jack Harkness, and _who_ do I have the pleasure of–”

She was vaguely aware of Ianto wincing and rolling his eyes. “Jack,” he interrupted, “don’t–”

But Rhiannon didn’t let him get any further. She’d already stepped across the threshold, throwing all her weight behind it as she punched Jack squarely in the face.

“ _Augh!_ ” he gave a very undignified squawk, stumbling backwards against the door to the kitchen, causing his towel to come precariously loose at the corner. Rhiannon glared back at him, hands still balled into fists. He shook himself, all but pouting at her. “ _Ow!_ What the hell was that for?”

“For letting my little brother get hurt” she spat.

Ianto was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rhiannon, this is Jack. Jack, Rhiannon” he said, with a deep sigh of forbearance. “And this _really_ isn’t how I pictured this going.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that when you forgot to contact me, shouldn’t you?” She rounded on Jack. “You, put some bloody clothes on and we’ll talk. God! ...Ianto...” With a sigh Rhiannon relented, putting her hands on her hips. “Look Ianto, I’ll help you tidy up if you want. And maybe we can have tea, and you can tell me exactly what happened, hmm?”

Ianto exchanged a look with Jack, and then sighed. “...Yeah, okay” he said. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”

* * *

“Where _are_ they?” wondered Gwen, poking her head out of the flap of the marquee and peering around the bay; in front of her was the makeshift canopy, an elaborate steel frame with tarpaulins stretched across it, covering up most of the vast, jagged hole in the paving of the Plass and protecting it from the worst of the weather. The whole structure was surrounded by hazard tape, barriers, police cordons, and a crane, stretching up against the sky. Beside it all was a huge pile of scorched and broken concrete and twisted metal, material which had already been shifted to expose the layers of debris beneath. There was still more to excavate before the team would be able to salvage the ruins. But it was getting there, Gwen knew.

Apart from that it was a very normal autumn day, windy, crisp and sunlit, a few clouds darting overhead. “I mean” she continued, “I know Jack goes off wherever he wants, when he wants, but I would’ve thought Ianto at least would show up on time this morning.”

“He’s meant to be on light duties” Owen reminded her, coming to join her at the entrance. They both stared up at the sky, where seagulls wheeled far up amongst the clouds, borne along fast by the ocean breeze.

“D’you really think that’s going to stop him coming in? Really?” said Gwen. “Come on, Owen, you know how Ianto is.”

“Unfortunately, yes” said Owen. He shrugged. “Well, I dunno. They’re probably having life-affirming morning sex and forgot what time it is.” He pursed his lips, glancing back through the door over to where Tosh sitting at a trestle table, typing at a laptop. “Wouldn’t have rushed out here so quickly ourselves, if we’d known.”

Gwen scowled. “Lucky for some. I was up at half six, throwing up in the loo.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Was it life-affirming, at least?”

She frowned, thinking of how Rhys had insisted on holding her hair aside and rubbing circles on her back as she knelt on the cold bathroom tiles. He’d refused to leave until she’d felt a little better, making himself late too. She sighed, laying her hand on her belly; she still hadn’t quite got used to the whole concept that she was going to have a baby, but she was getting there. “...Yeah, a bit” she conceded.

At that moment the tent flap opened again, and Tosh popped her head out, balancing the laptop on her hip. “I’ve connected to the Hub’s computer” she said. “The good news is, I think most of our basic computational infrastructure is still working. A few of the servers are out – I think they must’ve got their power cables cut in the blast – but it’s a start. I’ve even got the Rift monitor up and running again.”

“Oh?” said Gwen, “anything we need to follow up?”

Tosh shook her head, squinting a little at the laptop screen; her glasses had been in the Hub, Gwen realised, and she hadn’t had a chance to get new ones. “Not much... it’s been a quiet few weeks, luckily.” She frowned. “Although… it looks like there was a series of small spikes just after nine PM yesterday. And then a series of aftershocks over the course of the night...” she frowned. “They’re odd, though. Sort of... jagged and badly defined, when there’s normally a single clear spike followed by some much smaller aftershocks, if anything.”

Gwen frowned. “Did anything come through?”

“Not that I can see” said Tosh, frowning deeper. Her face cleared. “Well, the monitor is buried under tonnes of rubble. It’s probably just noisy data.”

Gwen nodded. “Can you check, just in case?”

“Already on it” said Tosh, putting the laptop down on the table. “I’m running a detailed scan of the Rift fluctuation records from the last few weeks to see if we can find any similar signals, and cross-referencing with incident reports from the police. Oh, and I was just about to get the alerts back online to redirect to all our phones.” She frowned. “Those of us that still have them, that is. Which is... not many of us, since we went on the run. I’m using a spare from years ago; those old Nokias are indestructible. Also, there’s this” she took her PDA out of her pocket.

“That looks like it’s been through the wars” said Owen.

Tosh smiled. “It is a bit battered. It’s been with me all this time, and I think it got some of your blood inside the casing after the snipers. Really not good for the circuit board.” She gave Owen and apologetic look. “...Anyway, I’ll also see about getting us new equipment.”

Gwen smiled gratefully. “Please do” she said. “...In fact, wait. Maybe that can be a nice start for Lois.”

They all turned to look at Lois, who was sitting on a folding chair inside the marquee, typing diligently at her own laptop.

“Been here since seven-thirty this morning” commented Owen. “I’ll say this, she ain’t half committed.”

“Doesn’t have much of an option, poor thing” said Gwen, taking care to speak quietly enough that Lois couldn’t hear her. “New city, new flat, new job… whole new life. And Jack got her out of prison, so she must feel she owes him.”

Tosh nodded. “That’s hard. We should all be nice to her.”

Gwen smiled, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, the other around Owen, giving them both a squeeze. “Of course we will!” She walked them over, and Lois raised her head as they approached. “Morning, Lois” she said. “While we wait for Jack and Ianto to arrive I thought I’d go for a walk. Maybe a coffee run, to the cafe around the corner. Want to come with me?”

Lois shut the laptop, giving her an apprehensive smile and getting hastily to her feet. “Of course” she said.

But at that moment, Gray poked his head through the doorway to the marquee. “Jack just called” he said. “He and Ianto are on their way.”

“Oh!” said Gwen, clasping her hands together. “Finally!”

They found Jack and Ianto at the railings surrounding the pit, where Jack was crouched on his knees, peering down to try to get a look in past the rainproof canopy. As they approached, Ianto touched his shoulder and Jack turned around to look at them, a big grin spreading across his face. “Well, here we all are!” he said, sounding very pleased. Owen and Gwen exchanged a knowing look. Jack clasped his hands, giving Gray a one-armed hug and ruffling his curls, reaching out to lay a hand on Tosh’s shoulder. “Like we never left” he said.

“Jack, there’s a massive hole in the ground where the Hub was” pointed out Owen.

“...True” said Jack, with a sigh. “But we’re here to fix that.” He put his hands on his hips, as Ianto began passing around takeaway coffee cups from a cardboard holder, a box of fresh pastries emerging from the plastic bag on his arm. Gwen passed Lois hers with a smile, cradling her own cup against the slight chill of the sea breeze; it was a sunny morning, but she could feel the bite of autumn in the air.

“Where were you two this morning, anyway?” said Owen curiously. “Only we were all here before eight...”

“Well, it was more like nine” said Tosh.

“Same thing” said Owen, with a shrug. He raised his eyebrows, looking between Jack and Ianto. “Hmm?”

“Sorry” said Jack. “We were on our way, and then Ianto’s sister dropped by.”

“Oh?” said Gwen. “How is Rhiannon these days?”

“Fine.” Ianto winced. “Worried about me, though. And. Well. She did punch Jack in the face. But honestly, the whole interaction could’ve gone much worse.”

“Ah” said Gwen. “Everything smoothed over now?”

“Well, we’ve been invited to tea with her and mum next week” said Ianto. “So, I really hope so. Don’t want anyone starting a brawl over the cottage pie and gravy.”

Gwen laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that” she said.

Jack interrupted them, still smiling big and excited. Like a child on Christmas morning, and entirely unlike a man who was going to have to pick through the broken ruins of his old life in the near future, Gwen thought.

“So, we going to see the big surprise you’ve been preparing, Gwen? I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“Funny, I heard you were getting punched in the face by Ianto’s sister” Gwen muttered fondly, but she nodded. “Come on, everyone,” she said. “It’s just down the street.”

* * *

“Welcome...” said Gwen, pushing open the door, “to our temporary home!” she led them all into the shop front on Bute Street, indicating the empty counter and desk. “Ianto, I thought this could be yours. It would be good to set up the tourist office again as a front. Aside from that, the bomb site security tell me they’ve had a lot of your regulars, asking after _that nice polite young man from the tourist office_ these last few weeks.”

She heard Owen snort as Ianto nodded, running his hands over the empty wooden counter. “I’ll order some new leaflets and set things up again.”

But she’d already moved to the stairs at the back of the room. “Now” she said, “up here is where the interesting stuff is. Or will be.” They all followed her up the stairs, Jack nodding approvingly as she opened the door into a large open room with a wide, segmented glass window to the street in the shape of a semi-circle resting on its flat edge. The bottom part of the window was smoked glass, so that no one could see in from the houses opposite, but the glass let in a pleasing amount of daylight.

She turned as the others came in, indicating the sign taped to the back wall; written in biro on a sheet of lined paper, it read

**_THE HUB (3.0)_ **

“It’s just temporary. The best I could find at short notice, close by” said Gwen, feeling a flicker of nervousness as they all trouped in. Admittedly, the almost unlimited budget of the Torchwood account had helped. “There’s a few storage rooms and a loft upstairs, as well as a cellar I thought we could use for the salvaged files and artifacts from the archives, and for storage. I know it’s not perfect, but–”

“Gwen.” Jack had come up beside her and grinned so brightly it almost blinded her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s exactly what we need. Thank you.”

She nodded. “Well, Rhys enjoyed the chance for us to finally get back to househunting” she said with a laugh.

Ianto had opened a hinged panel of the window and was peering out to where the white tents and cordons on the Plass were just visible past the end of the street. “We can carry everything over in the SUV” he said, drawing back and looking a little contrite. “I mean… once I get it back from the estate, and get the repairs done.”

“We’ll probably need something bigger anyway” said Jack, frowning. “There’s stuff in there that won’t fit in the SUV.”

Gwen smiled, fishing in her pocket. “Well, luckily I know a man with a van” she said, passing Jack a Harwoods business card. “He’s good, I’ve heard. We should give him a call.”

He laughed. “Well, there we go then.”

“Um, excuse me?”

Gwen turned at the sound of Lois’s voice, seeing her standing in front of the window. She was staring up. “Ah, I don’t mean to interrupt. But there’s something in the sky... it seems to be heading right for us.”

They all gathered around her and stared out the window too. Gwen squinted against the glare, standing on her tiptoes to see through the clear upper glass. Sure enough, there was a dark blotch against the clouds that didn’t look much like a seagull. “Hey... what _is_ that?”

“Um, a bird presumably?” said Owen.

“No! It’s a plane!” quipped Jack, grinning stupidly and making Owen roll his eyes.

But Ianto wasn’t looking at Jack; he was staring fixedly up into the sunlit sky, amongst the scudding clouds. “ _Nope!_ ” he said, abruptly. “Pteranodon!” he stared back at them, arms out. “Everyone get out the way, she’s heading right–”

But he didn’t get to finish the sentence as at that moment, Myfanwy came hurtling towards the window. A moment later, it exploded inwards in a shower of broken glass and scaled skin and leathery wings. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion chaos for a moment. Gwen watched Jack lunge towards Ianto and be sent sprawling backwards, yelling out as everyone else turned, hands coming up to hide faces from the flying shards of debris.

And then it was over. Gwen peered up from where she was hiding behind her hands, desperately afraid of what she’d see; suddenly, the image of what Myfanwy had done to Lisa was at the forefront of her mind, the blood and viscera that had left a slight stain on the concrete that nothing had been able to quite scrub clean.

She was ready to fight, hand already going for her gun to try to save Ianto before it was too late, when she was able to make sense of the scene in front of her.

There was Jack, sitting up dazed from where he’d been knocked down, a few cuts from the broken glass bleeding down his cheek. Gray was standing behind him, helping him up as they both stared at Myfanwy, and at Ianto sprawled on the ground.

At first Gwen thought she really did have him pinned, but no, she realised; Myfanwy was merely arching her wings over him protectively, making delighted screechy chattering noises as she nudged at him with her beak.

Gwen blinked a few times. Jack was already stepping forward, but as he did Ianto started to laugh, raising a hand to stop him. He looked both pleased and slightly disturbed. “It’s fine, Jack" he said, "I think she’s just… _ow_ … happy to see me?”

“She must’ve seen you come into this building” said Gray. “All this time, she’s probably been flying around looking for you.”

Ianto winced under the cover of Myfanwy’s wings. “Probably some people we should retcon, then.” But he stroked her neck with some affection. “Oh, and I’ll need to resume some sort of training regimen for her.”

“Not until you’re a bit better” put in Owen. “You just got out the bloody hospital! And I know you don’t like it, but you need to rest.”

“Make that an order” said Jack, clearly still apprehensive.

“Well, I can help with the training” said Gray, coming out from behind Jack. He reached out a hand, and Myfanwy raised her beak to meet him, bumping it against his wrist. “Ianto may be her favourite, but I think she trusts me too.”

This gave Ianto the chance to sit up; he was breathing hard, rasping, and rooted in his pocket for his inhaler. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose, staring around mournfully at the wreckage of the window. The first morning in their new location. _Typical Torchwood_. “Lois” she said, turning to see her standing there rooted to the spot, staring as if she had no idea how to react to the scene unfolding in front of her; Gwen sympathised. She gave Lois a big, encouraging smile. “Here’s your first job; find a glazier who can come out as soon as possible and fix this lot. We need this place ready to store the salvage from the–”

“Um, everyone?”

Gwen looked up at Tosh who had spoken. She was standing in the corner, staring at he PDA. “...Rift alert. Something’s come through.”

They all looked at each other. “Well” said Jack, still smiling as he reached for his holster. “Guess life’s going back to normal after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Aaaaand that's the last chapter of this arc! There's going to be a time skip (in story time not real time!) before I get onto the next one...I've got plans that I hope you'll like!  
> As always let me know what you think, and/or visit me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe!


	25. Chapter 25

**Torchwood Archives: Annual Summary Report on Operations/Activities, Major Incidents and Personnel Reports, for period 01/04/2009 – 31/03/2010**

**Submitted by: Capt. Jack Harkness**

**Position: Head of Torchwood Three**

**Date: 15/03/2010**

* * *

**[Summary]**

Well, we’ve made it through another year. And what a year it’s been! A lot has happened. But I'll get to that later. [ _Archivist’s note: see detailed incident reports by personnel, as well as case files 40144 – 42370, opened in the period under consideration._ ] We have two new staff on the roster, [ _L. Habiba, G. Thane_ ] as well as a temporary base from which we’re conducting normal operations: or at least, as normal as possible under the circumstances.

After the Hub was destroyed, we moved to new premises on Bute Street, within line of sight of the police cordon around the site of the Hub. My team have been salvaging what we can, especially from the lower levels, and putting it into storage until we can return. A lot of the artifacts are in bad shape [ _Crossref: case file 41762, damage report, currently in progress_ ] and some of the paper records were impossible to salvage, but the work continues. [ _Archivist’s note: where previously we were in the process of digitising_ _the extensive_ _historical records, this was not previously a priority. Recent events, however, have rather changed our perspective on this, and the process continues apace_.] In addition to this, we’re also looking into using the deeper tunnels as an access system, tightening up possible security loopholes in the process.

Some things have obviously had to change; with our cryogenics equipment buried under rubble, we haven’t yet decided on a solution for keeping cadavers on a long-term basis. We also no longer have the space to lock up weevils and other dangerous creatures; Owen’s working on developing a psychoactive drug we can inject them with to make them less vicious so they can be safely released back into the sewers, but it’s proving tricky to get its effects to last beyond a few days. The project is ongoing.

Potentially more seriously, the Rift manipulator is offline. It hasn’t yet been fully excavated, but we think it was damaged in the blast. So we’re without a way to control the Rift for the moment, which, in light of recent events, is a little worrying.

* * *

**[Major Incidents]**

1) The temporary removal of the Earth from its standard position in orbit around the Sun by the daleks [ _Crossref: case file 40321_ ]. This was a planetary-scale event, and involved the Doctor [ _Crossref: case file 1, as well as numerous other cases throughout the Institute’s history; too many to list here_ ], and has been covered in its own detailed report. Minimal damage to Torchwood infrastructure was sustained, and no personnel were injured.

2) The attempted extortion of the human race by the species known as 456, and the attempted assassination of Torchwood operatives by government forces. [ _Crossref:_ _detailed report, included in_ _case file 41762._ _See also:_ _recovered case file 20388, codenamed “456”_ _when disseminated amongst external operatives,_ _in accordance with_ _inter_ _-agency naming conventions of the time. This file was redacted in_ _March_ _1965, but having been recovered by Torchwood Operative T. Sato_ _in September 2009_ _, has subsequently been reinstated in the archives_ _for future reference_ ]. The incident saw the destruction of the Torchwood Hub as well as heavy damage to assets and archival material. The recovery operation is ongoing. In addition, Torchwood Operative Ianto Jones [ _Archivist’s note: hello!_ ] was seriously injured in the incident and was taken off active field duty for a minimal term of three months.

3) The marked change in background levels of Rift activity. Over the final months of 2009, the Rift has become much more active and less predictable. We've seen a change in the previous characteristic activity pattern (the usual “spikes”) to a pattern we’ve tentatively called “riftquakes”. This is due to their similarity to seismic activity and the fact that they usually come in clusters, with several “aftershocks” following the main spike. Working theory is that they’re due to some sort of external influence on the Rift. But from what? I have one or two theories myself, several of which I really, really hope are wrong. We don’t know enough evidence to say yet, though. We need to collect more data.

Furthermore, the shift to this kind of behaviour seems to be accelerating. We don’t yet have enough information to produce a detailed report, but the trend is clear when compared with historical Rift records; we are seeing a fundamental change in how the Rift operates these last few months. We don’t understand the long term implications of this, or have a solution (or at least, no solution I would want to resort to unless it was our very, very last option), which is worrying. For this reason, we’ve categorised it as a major incident.

With the increase in Rift activity, we’ve been seeing an increase in the number of things coming through, and so the whole team’s been kept very busy trying to keep the situation under control, while coping as best they can in our temporary base. Nevertheless, they’ve really outdone themselves, and I’m proud of every single one of them.

* * *

**[Personnel Reports]**

**Cooper, G.:**

Gwen’s been instrumental to the excavation of the Hub site. She’s been spending a lot of time managing the police and construction crews and and everyone else involved, keeping everything going smoothly, working with Ianto to cover our tracks, and administering Retcon to those who need it. She’s very good at that sort of thing, always has been. She’s been working with the police to keep people out, and directing the salvage operation to prioritise the things we need most.

Or want most, in some cases. Two days ago, she gave me back my vortex manipulator, which Ianto had ordered a new leather strap for. The two of them were planning to surprise me with it, and it certainly was that. It’s still broken, and neither of them can change that, but it was the nicest surprise I’ve had in a while.

But salvage operations and surprises aside, Gwen’s also been dealing with the fallout of the 456 incident. While we were all at the hospital, she found our temporary base and got it ready for us, as well as finding a new home for Clement McDonald. [ _Crossref: case file 41762, detailed psychological profile by O. Harper, record of interviews by G. Cooper._ ] After it was all over, Gwen found Clem a place at Welwyn House, an extremely well-regarded assisted living establishment in north London. This was done on the understanding that Torchwood would continue to monitor his situation and see that he is receiving the care he needs, as well as intervening if there is evidence of any ill effects, of an alien nature or otherwise. Gwen’s also been back to visit him several times, bringing him small presents and talking to him, and he seems to be doing fine.

Of course, I realise I’m going to have to start delegating Gwen’s duties soon, especially her field work. Chasing after aliens while eight months pregnant isn’t the best of ideas; I’d know, after all. Of course, if she had it her way Gwen would be working right up until the day she gave birth. Hopefully she’ll see sense – or Rhys will convince her to – and start to take it a bit easy soon.

My advice to her remains the same as it always has: don’t let it drift. Torchwood needs her, but her family does too, and it’s about to become a little bigger. I wish her all the very best; she’s going to be as amazing a mother as she is a Torchwood agent.

Having said that though, I know we’ll all miss her while she’s gone.

* * *

**Habiba, L.:**

As I said to Lois once before, what a time she picked to start a new job! But Lois has been handling it well, with Ianto showing her the ropes.

Because of the increase in Rift activity, we’ve had to bring forward Lois’s field training, and she’s started going out on missions. She’s a little hesitant perhaps, but I know she’ll grow into it just like the others did. Also, she’s a surprisingly good shot for someone who’s never held a gun before. Got a steady hand. Apart from that, Lois has been working with Tosh and Ianto on the digitisation of the archives. She seems to have more confidence in her own abilities in this area.

As per our discussion about maintaining a watch over relevant government agencies, Lois is also in regular contact with Bridget Spears, who has kept her position in the civil service. Lois herself suggested this, and I think it will serve Torchwood well in the future, especially if we need to put someone under covert surveillance. Also, Lois is now the one who handles calls to government officials that don’t require my presence; I think she’s got a taste for keeping them at her heel, and that’s exactly what we need if we don’t want a repeat of the 456 incident.

Failing that, Lois and Tosh are also working on a bit of hacking of government servers, as insurance. Turns out, these people all use extremely unsecure passwords, and Lois is good at guessing them. Who knew.

There was an incident in her first week in the field; Lois’s very first mission, in fact. We were hunting a hoix around the back of a fish and chip shop by the park, and it knocked Lois to the ground and was about to maul her, before Tosh shot it down. Lois sustained only light injuries [ _Crossref: medical report 30_ _15_ ] and Owen patched her up quickly, but I think she was a bit shaken up by the whole thing.

I’m going to keep an eye on her; each of the others in my team had a little bit of a rocky start (to lesser or greater extents) and the other day Gwen told me thought she heard Lois crying in the ladies room. I can’t confirm or deny this, but I want to make sure she’s okay. If I can’t get through, I’ll get Gwen to talk to her.

Other than that, great start!

* * *

**Harper, O.:**

Owen has been mostly working on following up the Thames House patients, and has been keeping in contact with Martha Jones in order to produce a report on the incident. [ _Crossref: medical report 2973, “Thames House virus: sample analysis, clinical notes, and patient outcomes”, by O. Harper and M. Jones_ ] This involves, as I understand it, tracking the patients’ health over time in order to understand the long-term effects, both physical and psychological. He’s also working on making us better prepared for acts of alien (or human) biological warfare such as this incident, refining the method he used to save Ianto and the others so he can do it quicker and more easily next time.

As part of this, Owen’s been working on the idea of “time lock medicine”; that is, he’s been using Tosh’s portable time lock devices to buy patients time while he takes whatever measures he needs to to save them. So far, he’s used it to stop three mauling victims of a particularly vicious weevil from bleeding out [ _Crossref: case file 41933_ ]. Then there was the case of a little girl who had been in contact with an alien toxin that was causing hyper-accelerated petrifold regression; basically, this thing that looked like a big scorpion stung her [ _Archivist’s note: we didn’t catch the alien scorpion, unfortunately. It was fast_ ], and she had about five minutes before she turned to stone. Owen was able to spend two hours inside a time bubble making an antidote, then pop back out in time to save her. It’s really promising.

Owen’s also trying to figure out a drug to dampen down aggression in weevils, as previously discussed. He’s been trying a lot of different formulas, with varying degrees of success. It’s an ongoing problem, and I hope he’s able to solve it soon.

He’s also rebuilding his collection of alien plants in the window room of our temporary base. I guess it’s as good a greenhouse as any, though we had to move one of the plants into sealed isolation after we discovered it was partially sentient, with a taste for human blood. [ _Crossref: case file_ _41821\. See also, case file_ _40623._ _Archivist’s note: this is not the first time this has happened, and_ _unfortunately_ _I doubt it’ll be the last._ ]

Ever since his return to life – and maybe before that – Owen’s been looking for a purpose, the next thing to channel his energy into. I think he’s finally found it, and though these are difficult times for all of us I’ve never seen him happier. Long may it continue.

* * *

**Jones, I.:**

Following the attempt on Ianto’s life by the 456 ambassador, his infection with the Thames House virus [ _Crossref: case file_ _41762, medical report 2973_ ] and subsequent recovery, Ianto was consigned to light duties for a minimum period of three months. He bore this (mostly) with great patience, but it’s obvious to me how relieved he was to start returning to the field around the new year, especially with the increase in Rift activity. Before that, to deal with the frustration of being confined to the office, Ianto had been throwing himself into the job of recovering and preserving material from the archives as more and more of it was excavated from the Hub site.

He’s been doing an excellent job, despite the lack of storage space in our temporary base. But then Ianto always has been resourceful. He’s also running the tourist office again, as well as showing Lois how his filing system works; that, right there, is the sign of a deep bond forming. Ianto’s also back to his usual duties of making sure our trail is covered up; it’s more important than ever these days, as I keep telling him. But all that aside I can tell he’s missed fieldwork, so despite my misgivings I think it’ll do him some good.

As regards Ianto’s health: though his breathing has improved, we’ve still got him under observation, particularly for the psychological after-effects of what happened. I’ve been taking charge of this myself; despite the fact that he seems fine most of the time (and since we met I’ve learned that Ianto is very good at pretending to be fine) I know the nightmares still bother him much more than he says. (And sometimes I get the impression there’s things he doesn’t tell me. That’s his choice, but I worry.)

The main issue is Ianto’s persistent headaches; he doesn’t exactly say outright, but I think they’re getting worse, even as the rest of him appears to get better. We still can’t find a physiological cause for them (Owen’s scanned his brain several more times to make sure, and assures me there’s no evidence of brain damage following his illness) but I’m still concerned.

Anyway, I have a few possible theories; like those about the Rift, there are some I like a lot less than others. But at this point it’s a matter of the process of elimination. In the meantime, I’m looking after Ianto as best I can, and keeping an eye out. I just want him not to be in pain anymore. Is that too much to ask?

And I just remembered Ianto reads these and does annotations before archiving them. That’s fine though, there’s nothing here I wouldn’t tell him to his face. There’s not much left these days I wouldn’t say to his face. Or maybe ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■. In fact, hi Ianto! Remember to take your meds today! Also, want to meet me after everyone else has left, in the window room? We can talk about your professional development. Or, if you would prefer, ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■. For example, ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■. Then, for old times’ sake we can use that stopwatch from the latest batch of salvage to ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■. ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■ ■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■. Or if you want, ■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■: ■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■. Anyway, lots of options to choose from. ■ ■■■■ ■■■.

[ _Archivist’s note: given the drop-off in professionalism over the course of this report and,_ _more specifically_ _, over the course of th_ _e preceding_ _paragraph, I feel entirely justified in a bit of light editorialising here;_ _some may even go so far as to call it redaction_ _. It’s not as if_ _this report’s author wi_ _ll come back to read it again, but Torchwood operatives in a hundred years’ time might, and there_ _are_ _certain things that aren’t relevant to arming the human race for the future_ _. But if you are reading this, Sir, and you have any issue with my decision_ _, you’re welcome to take it up with me_ _personally_ _after everyone else has left tonight._ ]

[ _Archivist's note:_ _also, me too._ _–I.J._ ]

* * *

**Sato, T.:**

Toshiko has been continuing her time lock project, improving the durability of the system and adding a dial to make the size of the time bubbles adjustable. As well as this, she’s made portable time locks for all of us; only hers and Owen’s run indefinitely without needing to be charged (until Tosh finds another dalek or two to rip the batteries out of, that is!) [ _Crossref: case file 40321_ ] but it’s good to have them. Also, once we’re back in the Hub, Tosh plans to reinstate the automatic time lock system, tying it to the lockdown procedure in case we come under attack again.

Also of note: Tosh has been in charge of our attempts to understand the change in the behaviour of the Rift. She’s been trying to adapt her forecasting algorithms to predict the severity and duration of the riftquakes, as well as to understand why this is happening at all. It’s slow going, but if anyone can do it, Tosh can. As well as this, she’s been putting together more handheld Rift keys, for use in emergencies while the Rift manipulator is out of commission. They’re not at all powerful compared to the Rift manipulator, but the idea is that if we have enough of them, we should be able to do something if the Rift starts to tear open. Not that that’s likely to happen, but you never can be too careful.

Speaking of careful, Tosh is also planning ways to secure the service shaft system in the Hub. Given that she and Owen climbed up through it all the way to the surface, this obviously represents a flaw in our security. However, if we’ve learned anything from the bomb blast, it’s that we need some alternative escape routes now and again so we don’t get trapped inside. So Tosh is planning ways to get people out, while making it more difficult for others to break in. Ianto’s agreed to help her, given that he knows the lower levels and all the tunnels and maintenance shafts down there better than anyone [ _Crossref: case file 30651._ _I_ _n particular,_ _see the_ _detailed report concerning_ _Lisa Hallett and_ _the illicit use of_ _cyber conversion technology,_ _including_ _security flaws exploited, by I. Jones_ ].

Following her imprisonment by the 456, I’ve been keeping an eye on Tosh, but she seems to be doing well. In fact, changing the timeline and helping save Ianto the way she did seems to have helped her believe in her own strength and worth; now, she has indisputable proof that she can remake the world exactly the way she wants. Not that the rest of us didn’t already know that, but the extra confidence suits her.

* * *

**Thane, G.:**

Gray was officially recruited to Torchwood [ _Crossref: personnel file 568_ ] by Owen in his capacity as second in command during the 456 incident. Gray’s come a long, long way since he came to us [ _Crossref: case file 38920_ ], and has proved himself to everyone time and time again, and is a more than worthy member of the team. So after Owen recruited him, it was only right to make it official. Gray has been acting primarily as a field agent, coming with us on missions and learning as he goes. I mean, he already knew a lot of it (from living in the Hub all those months) but he hasn’t had the same training as the others. I want to change that, as well as get him working on some non-field-based assignments. Due to his kidnapping, Gray missed out on a lot of his education. But he was always a smart kid, and he’s picked up a lot on twenty-first century life and culture very quickly, so he knows more than enough to be a very effective Torchwood agent.

Gray’s also been helping Ianto train Myfanwy to keep out of sight during the day, as well as spending a lot of time with her in her specially built compartment in the loft space of our building. I’m glad – for both their sakes, as well as my own – that Gray and Ianto seem to have become good friends. As well as this, Tosh and Gray are closer than ever, and she’s helping him with his firearms training. Gray can shoot well enough, but he needs to improve his trigger discipline. We’ve set up a makeshift shooting range in an abandoned warehouse by the docks, and the two of them often go there to practice together. They trust each other very deeply now, which helps.

The main thing I worry about with Gray is the effect the 456 incident had on him. As discussed in the detailed report, the 456 are the distant ancestors of Gray’s captors, and so I was prepared for this whole thing to push back the progress he’s made. I was definitely expecting the symptoms of his PTSD to worsen [ _Crossref: medical report 2712_ ]. What I didn’t prepare for was the way it actually did affect him. I’m still trying to understand, and to keep a look out for other signs of trauma. But just like Tosh, this seems to have focused and empowered Gray beyond all my expectations. Maybe facing his past like that was exactly what he needed?

Still, Gray has moments of quiet too, where he seems lost in the past (or the future). But then again, I guess we all do. At least our new place has a good rooftop to climb up to and stare up at the stars you can see through the light pollution. That seems to help him.

Another thing that seemed to help: in late October, Gwen and I paid one of our follow-up visits to Clem. Gray asked to come with us, so we brought him along. Once Gwen and I were finished talking to Clem, Gray spoke to him alone for almost an hour. I don’t know exactly what they spoke about; I could guess, but I won’t. I didn’t ask Gray to compile a report on the conversation. But when he came out, my brother seemed much more at peace than before. I think speaking to another of the victims of their telepathic control helped him understand, to put what happened behind him.

I’m going to help him too, as best I can. After all, I’ve got years of being a big brother to catch up on, and I’m planning on making up the difference, and more besides.

These are difficult times for all of us, but if we’re going to get through it, the only way is together.

**[End of summary report]**

* * *

**Signature of relevant authority:** _Capt. J. Harkness_

**Date:** 15/03/2010

**For archival use only:**

**Document code: 131-2010-AR-JH** *

(*Note: initially submitted to the temporary archives: to be refiled once circumstances permit.)

 **Archivist’s signature:** _Ianto Jones_

**Date:** 15/03/2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts: the bloodthirsty, semi-sentient plant thing is technically canon; in the Torchwood short story Plant Life it possesses Ianto, and Jack saves him. It's a weird little story but it's kind of cute and I love it.


	26. Chapter 26

_**[20:30, 16/03/2010]** _

Lois was not having a good day.

She felt a little guilty thinking this; the others, she knew, were definitely having a worse day than she was. And for that matter, this day going the way it had was partially her fault.

 _The singing in the night, voices in the water as she stood on her balcony looking down over the bay._ _A little closer, a little louder each night._ _Calling her to come and find them,_ _in voices as alien as they were beautiful_...

Make that mostly her fault, she thought miserably as she watched Jack pacing the dockyard. His agitation was putting a spring in his step as he checked on each of his team.

She watched him leaning over Ianto, who was huddled and shivering on the concrete. His suit was soaked to the skin, with Jack’s coat draped over his shoulders like a blanket. She watched them speak for a moment, Jack asking a quiet question, Ianto nodding, still a little blank-eyed. Jack leaned down and gave him a brief, relieved hug and a kiss on the forehead, before walking to the other side of the car park where Owen was cleaning blood off the side of Gray’s face.

This was where Jack had been just a moment ago. Lois watched as he hovered nervously, eyes never leaving Owen as he applied a temporary dressing. Beside them Tosh was squinting down at her PDA, holding up a scanner above her head. “No residual Rift energy signatures” she said. “We lost them. Should we try and chase them now? We can get the boat...”

“No. They’ve got too much of a lead by now… too fast in the water. We’ll try again next time.” Jack nodded grimly. “We need to get back to base. Owen, you said Gray needs stitches?”

“Just a couple” said Owen. “Here, keep this pressed down?” he placed Gray’s hand over the dressing. “Don’t be too alarmed by all that blood on you. Head wounds bleed a lot, but you should be fine once I can stitch you up.”

Gray nodded, biting down stoically on his lip.

Lois almost flinched, a little startled, when she felt a hand come down on her shoulder. “Come on” said Gwen. “Let’s get in the SUV, hmm? I think we all need a bit of a breather after that.”

Lois opened her mouth, about to speak, but thought better of it and followed Gwen to the car in silence.

Everyone was quiet and tense on the journey back; Jack drove, with Gwen in the passenger seat, and Lois sat in the back with the others. The SUV was cramped with all of them, every seat full. Lois was perched uncomfortably on the edge of one of the fold-down seats, the kind you got in taxis. Opposite her was Tosh, who gave her a sympathetic smile before concentrating on her screen again, already scanning the object on her lap that the creatures had left behind. On Lois’s other side was Owen, who was watching Gray, Ianto and Tosh carefully, eyes flicking from one to the other. His gaze fell on Lois a few times, but she stared down at her hands.

She clasped them together, trying to still the trembling in her fingers.

 _They had been controlling her, she knew now. The song, it had only sounded beautiful because they wanted it to, and it had been controlling her mind, luring her right to their icy-wet grip_...

Opposite Owen sat Ianto, head leaning against the window and staring fixedly out, his clothes dripping water on the seats and soaking into Jack’s greatcoat which was still loosely draped around him. In the middle seat Gray had his hand pressed to his head where the blood was beginning to coagulate, but it had stained all down the side of his shirt. Making him look like something out of a zombie movie, came the unbidden thought.

It really had been a very bad day.

Lois couldn’t help but feel wretched in the silence. This was her fault, she thought again. She’d been working at Torchwood for six months now, there was no excuse for her to be so naive. She should have recognised the signs, known the singing from the waters of the bay outside the window of her flat for a siren song – a literal one, in this case. But she hadn’t; instead, she’d fallen into the trap perfectly. She’d already been walking down the stairs to the water, drawn in by the entrancing melody, when the screech of the SUV’s tires and the flash of blue lights had broken through her awareness. Even then it had taken several pairs of hands pulling her back to break her fully out of the trance.

 _The singing, the singing twisting into her_ _head_ _, leaving her helpless to refuse even as the waves lapped around her ankles_...

They'd had to try several times to pull her back. The creatures – _merrows_ , Jack had called them, and they weren’t the beautiful, sinuous mermaids she had thought but sharp-toothed and grasping, smelling of rotten meat – had not wasted the time. Furious, they’d reached up over the edge of the dock; one had lobbed a slimy, wave-rounded half-brick from the sea, which struck the side of Gray’s head. While they’d been dealing with that, another had reached up and grabbed Ianto’s ankle, pulling him off his feet on the slippery pier and dragging him down with inhuman strength. Into the cold waters of the bay, right to the bottom. It probably would have dragged him out even further too, Lois knew, if Jack hadn’t immediately thrown off his coat and dived in to drag him back from their long-fingered, fish-scaled grasp.

When they’d come back up Ianto had been gasping for air, panic in his eyes as he hacked and coughed up water. For a while afterwards, he’d been so… _blank_ , huddled under Jack’s coat and trembling with more than just cold.

And all because Lois had thought she was special; that the creatures had chosen her for a reason. Lois thought, a little disturbed, that most likely they were planning on eating her.

But faced with the whole team, the merrows had fled back into the deeper waters of the bay, leaving behind only the strange, twisted metallic object that was now sitting on Tosh’s lap: it looked like it was made of shimmering silver wire, tied in a complex knot. Lois squinted at it, desperate for something to distract herself. But she had no idea what it was.

When they arrived she carefully hung up everyone’s coats, reflexively tidying the leaflets in the tourist office as the others scattered to different parts of the house. When she could find no more tidying to occupy her nervous hands, was quick to slip out of the car and back up to the little office in the archives she shared with Ianto some of the time – really just two desks shoved into an already cramped back room, surrounded by as many filing cabinets as would fit. But she’d have it to herself for now she knew, since Jack had sent Ianto downstairs for a warm shower and a change of clothes.

Lois liked Ianto well enough, but she didn’t want to cry in front of him just yet if it could be avoided. She didn’t want any of them to see her cry. Besides, she didn’t think she had any right to cry about this.

Lois spent a few minutes doing some more nervous filing, dropping a folder as her hands trembled.

She wasn’t made for this, she couldn’t help but think. The rest of them… they were so strong, so practiced, hardened by years of fighting against the things that came out of the Rift. And what was she? A resourceful PA who had been in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong one, depending on how you looked at it.

Gwen had told her she was brave for what she’d done in the cabinet room and in Thames House. And maybe then she had felt brave, a little.

Today, she felt anything but.

Some day soon, she thought, they were going to figure her out. She’d make a mistake, and it would be too much, and something bad would happen. It is would be one of them that would pay the price, these bright, brave people to whom she owed so much.

Jack… Jack had saved her. And today she’d repaid him by nearly getting his brother and his boyfriend killed.

Lois touched the bruises on her wrist, skin just beginning to bloom blue and purple where a merrow had risen up out of the water and tried to grab her, and shivered. She should have thought to draw her gun, should have been quicker, smarter... but she still wasn’t used to carrying a gun, wasn’t used to any of this. Her life now was so different than she’d ever dreamed it would be. But she knew there was no going back, whether she wanted to or not.

Biting back the sob that was threatening to rise in her throat, Lois began to pick up the papers she’d dropped.

She nearly flinched again at the sound behind her, getting up so quickly it made her head spin; she realised right there and then that she hadn’t eaten all day, and she felt exhausted right down to her bones.

“Lois. There you are.”

She turned and saw Ianto at the door, coming over to his desk. He was dressed in dry clothes, but his hair was still a little damp.

He was holding a plastic bag slung over one arm; in the other a tray, with two muffins and two steaming mugs.

He came around the desk, putting the tray on the table. “Thought we could do with something warm while we’re looking at this thing” he said, opening up the plastic bag. Inside was the large tangle of silver wire or cord that the merrows had left behind. But for the moment, Ianto left it on the desk, sliding her mug over to her.

She accepted it with a word of thanks; it was her favourite Assam tea, brewed strong with a splash of milk. For himself, Ianto had made his usual coffee.

“And there’s a muffin” he said. “You look like you need a boost of blood sugar. Go on.”

“Lemon and poppyseed” she said. “How did you know that was my favourite?”

“You told me, in November” said Ianto. “When we went on that bakery run in the hail storm. You know, after the thing with the vampire sheep in Cwmbran?”

“Oh” said Lois, “oh yes, you’re right.” She took a bite of muffin, then a sip of tea. “I suppose… I’m still not used to people remembering stuff like that about me” she said with a slight, self-conscious laugh. “That always used to be my job.”

“Well, it used to be my job too” said Ianto. “And it still is.” He put his own muffin back on the plate – raspberry and white chocolate – and turned to look at the strange silver object they’d brought in. “Now. Jack’s with Gray and Owen, Tosh is adding the energy readings to the database, and Gwen’s gone home, so it’s just us to figure out what this thing does. Any ideas?” When she didn’t answer, he looked up at her, a little uncertain. “Lois? ...You okay?”

She flushed, cradling her mug of tea. She thought about how he’d been earlier; pale and trembling and coughing up water. Now he seemed to have taken it all in his stride completely. Either that or he was just very, very good at pretending.

She only realised how long the silence had been when he broke it, spinning ninety degrees in his chair so he was facing her. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes… no!” she said. “No, I just...” this was stupid. She sighed. “You nearly drowned today, and it was my fault!” she burst out. “How can you treat me so normally? How can you _be_ so normal, when...” she tailed off.

He stared at her. “Lois. What happened today wasn’t _your_ fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“But it was!” she said. “If I hadn’t let myself get... I don’t know, hypnotised or whatever–”

“More like partially influenced by a weak psychic field, but… um, sorry. Maybe not helpful. Carry on.”

“–then you wouldn’t have been dragged into the water, and Gray wouldn’t be hurt, and Jack wouldn’t be angry at me...”

Ianto frowned. “Why do you think Jack’s angry at you?”

She blinked. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Lois” said Ianto, a little gentler than before. He seemed less than comfortable doing this, as though he was always searching for the right words to say what he wanted to. But he carried on. “He doesn’t blame you.”

“But I should’ve told him, should’ve told all of you, as soon as I heard the singing outside my window.”

“Maybe, yes” Ianto tilted his head to one side, thinking. “But next time you will.” He smiled a little, as though he were reading her thoughts. “And yes, there probably will be a next time, unfortunately. But you learn.”

“B-but...” she took a sip of tea to steady herself. It really was very good. “But I’m not _good_ at this, Ianto. I’m not… not like you.”

“Like me? What am I like?”

“Good at this!” she said. “Good at running around shooting guns and resisting alien psychic fields, and all that! I’m… not made to be a hero.” She had to fight back tears. “...Sometimes I don’t understand why Jack hired me at all” she confessed.

“Lois.” Her eyes came up to meet his at the tone of his voice. He was staring right at her, confident and sure. “Jack hired you because you’re brave and clever, and because you understand that sometimes you have to do things that are _hard_. You have to do them, because there’s nothing else you can do. The rest is just details.” He laughed, softly. “And as for me… I think we’re actually a lot more similar than you think.”

“But you’re so...” Lois gestured.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “So… what?”

She tried to articulate what she meant. “You’re so, um… you’re one of the team. The best of them! You’re the one they rely on, for _everything_ , and you never let them down. And you’re so… confident.”

And to her surprise, Ianto gave an incredulous laugh.

Lois couldn’t help but feel a little put off by this. “Well, I’m just saying what I think!” she muttered, turning away. “Look, maybe this was a bad idea. I overstepped, I’m sorry. It’s just the way you all are around each other, and I thought… well, you asked...” she was aware she was digging herself into a hole, not to mention being very unprofessional. “...Look, I'm sorry, I’m sure you have better things to be doing than this. I should go...” she made to get up from the desk, feeling shame heat her face.

“No! Lois, no, I didn’t mean that. Sorry, I...”

She turned back.

He gave her a rueful smile. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I just...” he ran a hand through his hair, straightening his tie nervously, then nodded pointedly at her desk again.

Cautiously, she sat back down.

“Look, Lois, I know what you’re going through. Because all of us, every single one, went through something similar. Yes, even me. Especially me. Whatever I am to the team now… it wasn’t always like that.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When I joined, I was, um... keeping a lot of secrets. From Jack, and everyone else.” He laughed again, a little sadly this time. “I didn’t talk to anyone at the beginning. I just silently blended into the background. I wanted it that way.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

He gave her a long look. “...Has anyone told you why I first joined Torchwood Three?”

“I know you worked at Torchwood One.” She remembered asking Gwen about the different branches of Torchwood early on, and she’d mentioned Ianto’s time in London without going into details. That, and the fact that Lois had discretely checked each of her new coworkers’ CVs on file in her first week. “I know there was... an incident. People died. I assumed you asked to be transferred back to Wales after that, because you’re from here?” Actually, if she was honest she hadn’t thought much about the why of it.

Ianto’s smile was sad. “Not quite, no. See, at the time of the battle of Canary Wharf, I had a girlfriend. Her name was Lisa.”

And then he began to tell her a story.

By the end of it she was staring at him, eyes wide.

“...and that’s what happened” he said at last. His eyes were far away, but he looked back at her and they crinkled at the edges with a slightly bitter humour. “So, I suppose my point is… if you think you fucked up today, take comfort in the knowledge that you definitely didn’t fuck up as much as I did.” He spread his hands. “And I’m still here, so...”

She carried on staring at him; she wanted to hug him. “Ianto...”

“It’s okay. It’s in the past now. I loved Lisa, and I think part of me will never stop loving her. But I’ve grieved for her, and I’ve moved on.”

She frowned. “You and Jack...”

“Me and Jack.” He nodded, a slight smile curving up the corner of his mouth. “He’s forgiving, you know. He cares about all of us. Sometimes I think a little too much.”

“Forgiving” she said thoughtfully. “Will he forgive me for today?”

“He already has.”

“How can you know?”

“I _know_.”

She nodded, thinking over the story he’d told her for a while. “You really had to argue for your job to even exist when you were trying to get Jack to hire you?” she said at last.

He smirked. “Argue… amongst other things. As I recall, some rather tight jeans were involved.”

She giggled nervously. “But what did they do without you? You do _everything_ around here!”

“I _know!_ ” he nudged her shoulder with a quiet laugh. “So much so that Jack’s finally seen the light and hired someone else to share my duties.”

She laughed too. It felt nice, to laugh; she didn’t feel quite so intimidated by him as she had before.

But his story still lingered in her mind. “I’m sorry” she said, serious again. “Really I am. About Lisa.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Lois. It’s in the past now.”

She nodded.

“And like I said” said Ianto, stretching his back in his desk chair, “it’s certainly possibly to move on from your mistakes.”

She couldn’t help but snort. “Moving on… by dating your boss, you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “ _Please_ , you make it sound so crass. We were just shagging in his office a bit at first, it only turned into _dating_ later.”

She laughed. “All class, that Captain Harkness.”

“He does try his best.” Ianto smiled. “Don’t get jealous now.”

“...Don’t worry, I don’t know if Jack’s my type.”

“Oh?”

“I prefer women, most of the time.”

“Reasonable” said Ianto, nodding. “...You should probably steer clear of the ones that are vicious alien mermaids, though. Just a little advice.”

“Yeah, well. Like you said, we all have to learn from our mistakes.”

They both laughed, and there was a short silence. “Come on” said Ianto, at last. “That... thing we got today still needs archiving. Want to help?”

She knew for a fact he could do it quite well on his own, and so she recognised the offer for what it was straight away; a hand extended, and offer of not being alone now, stated in his own quiet way. She drew her chair up close to his and they both inspected the object under the desk lamp.

“Any idea what it might be?” said Ianto.

Lois shook her head, frowning as she looked at the thing; it looked for all the world like a tangle of thick silver wire, only it seemed to glow with its own subtle internal light, a low, shifting sheen of iridescent colours moving across its surface as she moved her head. “No idea.”

“Pretty, though” said Ianto, tilting his head from side to side as he inspected it from every angle. “Shiny.”

“Yeah” she agreed. “...Is it... safe to touch?”

“Probably” he said. And then, seeing her look, “well, I mean, Tosh touched it earlier. So did Jack, and there don’t seem to have been any ill effects to either of them. So...”

She nodded, plucking up her courage and putting her hands on the wire. It had the strangest texture; neither warm nor cold, and lighter and more flexible than it looked. “I don’t think it’s a normal earth metal” she said. It seemed to slide past itself very easily, which gave her an idea. “...I wonder if...”

Ianto watched silently beside her as she spent a few minutes untangling the knot. It came undone much more easily than even she had expected, and in a short time she was left with a long coil of cord, perfectly uniform. She blinked. “Huh.”

“Hmm” said Ianto, smiling and picking up the end of the cord. He smiled at her. “I hadn’t thought of that. Looked far too badly tangled to undo.”

“Yes, well” said Lois, shrugging. “My older sister’s a knitter. I spent my whole childhood watching her untangling balls of wool our cat messed up. Practically anything can be untangled if you’ve got enough patience.” She took a length of it in her hands, giving it a tug between her fists. “It feels strong” she said. “I don’t think this would tear easily.”

He nodded. “Definitely very tough. I wonder what it was used for.”

“Would Jack know?” said Lois uncertainly.

“Maybe” said Ianto. “But the fun is in trying to figure it out before asking him.”

“I see” she said, picking up the end of the coil once again. She laughed suddenly. “It looks like...” she picked up the whole coil, swinging it over one of her shoulders and thinking back to the old movies that used to be on TV when she was younger. She brandished the end in a circle. “Looks like a lasso, like cowboys would use...”

He laughed too, not unkindly. “For lassoing yourself a space cow?”

“Exactly.” she grinned, putting it back down on the table. “I don’t know, really” she said hastily. “Um... maybe some sort of anchor for... um... a spaceship?” even after six months, she still felt a little self-conscious saying things like that.

Ianto frowned, thinking; for a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her, and was about to repeat what she’d said, when his eyes widened. “Oh! That’s it!”

“What?”

He looked at her. “I know what this is! It’s a dimensional tether!”

“A what?”

“A dimensional tether” he repeated. “Various alien civilisations use them to anchor their ships when exploring other dimensions. Or sometimes their people; you know, like astronauts are tethered so they don’t float off into space. ...Torchwood One used to use them sometimes.”

“Oh, you’ve seen one before?”

“Well, not personally, but Lisa told me about them. She was in acquisitions, used to talk to the inventory people who issued them to the ops staff for… a project they were doing, near the end. I never worked on that stuff myself, but...” he took a deep breath, as though trying to slow down. “There was a portal that had to be opened and closed, and the people in operations would normally use dimensional tethers. Didn’t want anyone falling into the void accidentally while doing routine maintenance.” He ran his fingers along the length of the rope, almost reverently. “They were alien in origin, so hard to come by on this planet obviously. But I think they’re commonly used by civilisations across the galaxy when exploring other dimensions.”

She frowned. “Maybe those merrows were explorers, then? Originally, I mean. Maybe they came through the Rift and got stuck here, took to trying to drag people down out of desperation?”

“Could be. I’ve heard of desperate, trapped people resorting to worse.” He passed her the silver cord. “Here. Want to have a look?”

“A dimensional tether...” she repeated, fascinated, running her fingers over it too. No matter her misgivings, she didn’t think she’d ever tire of listening to them all talk about things like this. “That sounds like it could be useful.”

Ianto nodded. “Very.”

“And here I was trying to lasso you with it!”

Their laughter was interrupted by Jack’s voice from the door behind them. “What’s all this about lassoing Ianto, and more importantly, where do I sign up to join in?” They both turned to look at him, and as they did his eyes caught the table in front of them; his whole face seemed to light up. “Oh, is that a dimensional tether?”

Ianto gave Lois an amused _I told you so_ look, handing Jack the coil of silver cord. “That was our working theory, yes. We were just about to archive it.”

Jack nodded, picking up the tether and testing the strength before nodding approvingly, handing it back to Ianto. “Don’t take too long, hmm? First quiet evening in ages. I’m sending everyone home to get some rest.”

“Oh?” said Ianto. “Gray's okay then?”

“He’s going to be fine” said Jack, relief obviously radiating from him. “Owen did the stitches. He doesn’t even seem to have a concussion, but Owen’s keeping an eye on him for a while just in case. After that he’s cleared to go home.” Jack laughed. “Owen had to shave part of the side of his hair off to do the stitches... when I left them Owen was trying to explain the cyberpunk aesthetic, much to Gray’s confusion. The twenty-first century view of the future really is pretty weird, especially when you grow up in a place like Boeshane. You people are so fixated on the sex robots, you don’t imagine anywhere near enough sand and provinciality.”

Lois gave Ianto a questioning look, but he just smiled in a fond, _he’s always like this_ sort of way. But Jack had already turned to Lois, and in his expression she saw that Ianto was right; Jack had already forgiven her, or perhaps there was nothing to forgive. “I know telepathic fields like the kind those pesky fish people were exerting on you can leave you with the brain tingles. Especially if it’s your first time.” He looked her up and down. “You doing okay?”

Lois nodded. “I’m fine” she said. “Ianto’s been looking after me.”

“Good.” He nodded, enfolding Lois in a brief, warm hug. Then he let her go. “Ianto, okay?”

Ianto nodded. “Learning a valuable lesson in untangling.”

“Ohoh, you’ll have to teach me that one sometime.” Jack smiled. “Look, Ianto, I’m gonna stay here with Gray a bit longer, check he’s really okay. I’ll meet you at home, yeah?”

“Would you like me to stay, too?” he asked.

Jack shook his head. “You need some proper sleep.” It was true, they really had been running themselves ragged; Lois couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept more than three hours at a stretch.

“Lois, you should go home too” Jack was saying. “Get some rest. Make that an order.”

Realising that her eyes were indeed blurring slightly, she refocused. “But the Rift...”

“...Seems to be quiet for once. If not, we’ve all got alerts set up” said Jack. He sighed. “I think we all need a break, after the day we’ve had.”

“Okay” Ianto said. “Give me ten minutes? I want to get this done before I go home. Lois, can you get me a form, please?”

She smiled, nodding as she got out an archive sign-in form from the tray in the desk drawer, Ianto already rummaging in the cupboard for an empty lockbox.

Before Jack turned away for the door he met Lois’s eye and she caught the edge of a smile, tired but proud.

She smiled back, a little more certain that despite how today had gone, everything might just be okay.

And at that moment, the Rift alarm started to ring. Immediately Jack was back at the door. “Okay, I guess I jinxed it by talking about giving everyone a night off” he said, smiling wearily. “C’mon. Let’s see what we got this time.”

* * *

_**[02:15, 18/03/2010]** _

A day and a night later Ianto flinched awake, breath rasping a little in his throat. He bit down on his lip hard, concentrating on the pulsing pain as his heart rate slowed to normal. It helped a little, he’d found, to banish the lingering sense of the dreams, the great choking dread that they left behind for a few minutes afterwards. He tried to ignore the ache in his head as he raised himself up on his elbows to see if he’d woken Jack.

He hadn’t, as it turned out; Jack seemed to be deeply asleep, starfish-sprawled out on his back with only one arm in contact with Ianto. The other hung over the edge of the bed, fingers slack and curved. Ianto was glad he hadn’t woken him; it was a rare thing that Jack slept so deep.

In recent times part of that was his own fault, Ianto knew. Ianto tried not to wake Jack with his nightmares; he’d got better at it with practice.

He covered his face with his arm, suppressing a groan. This was supposed to be their first proper night of sleep in a week. They hadn’t had a chance to go home since the incident with Lois and the merrows, but had been running all around the city trying to mop up various messes from the latest riftquake. This had ended up taking all night and most of the day. Since then, Ianto had been running on caffeine and adrenaline. When they’d finally got back just past one AM, it had begun to catch up with him and he’d barely been able to make it up the stairs to his flat without half falling asleep on his feet, leaning heavily on Jack’s shoulder.

All things considered, Ianto had hoped his general exhaustion would have at least knocked him out sufficiently that he’d be free of dreams for once. But then, this was the first time he’d tried to sleep since he’d nearly been dragged down into the bay. He supposed he’d been too optimistic to hope for a night free of these particular dreams, after feeling the cold water pressing in on his lungs.

He pulled his arm away from his face and stared at the ceiling instead, the images from the dream replaying themselves in his mind; the great encompassing darkness, the humid closeness of it. The blank glass lit with otherworldly blue, the walls closing in, crushing him inexorably. His own face staring back at him, blue-lipped and pale.

Even the silence seemed to press too close.

Not that the dreams were always silent. Sometimes Jack was there; or at least Ianto could hear his voice, crying out Ianto’s name. A low thud as Jack punched the glass over and over again, sickening crunching sounds as his knuckles broke, yet still Jack didn't relent. Ianto longed to reach out to him, to tell him to stop, to stop hurting himself. To take Jack’s hands in his and make it better. Not that Ianto could see Jack: he could only see himself, cold and lifeless in reflection. He couldn’t move either, confined in that dark place.

Ianto breathed out, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment and pressing his palms over them. He sat up in bed, as the thin line of car headlights through the cracks in the blinds swept the room. Again he looked over at Jack, still sleeping soundly.

Finally giving up on more sleep for himself, Ianto got up, shirtless and shivering slightly as he left the warmth of their bed. He pulled on his soft old dressing gown over his pyjama trousers and slipped out of the room on silent feet. He padded to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and drinking it all in one; the coolness of it steadied him a little, spreading through his chest. Putting the empty glass down beside the sink, he stared out of the kitchen window for a moment. Rain was coming down in a fine mist, illuminated by the orange street light. The tarmac of the road seemed to sparkle with it.

He thought about the city, about the Rift, and their lives that revolved around it. He thought of Lois, how uncertain she’d seemed when they’d talked in the archives, how much she blamed herself for what had happened. He didn’t know exactly why he’d told her about Lisa, about Torchwood One. Maybe he’d wanted her to see him for what he really was. He hoped he’d at least helped her a little bit.

Maybe the very act of remembering had shaken him up, he thought. He felt restless, on edge. He didn’t think he could go back to sleep right now if he tried.

Ianto was just contemplating whether to check his Torchwood email – he thought his laptop was in the living room, so he wouldn’t even disturb Jack – or go back to bed and lie awake, when he heard a sound out in the corridor.

He sighed, thinking he must’ve woken Jack after all. But when he walked out into the quiet darkness of the hallway, there was no one there.

Ianto frowned. He peered into the bedroom, seeing Jack’s form under the covers, asleep just as Ianto had left him.

He closed the door, breathing out slowly and leaning against the wall in the hallway. He must’ve imagined it, he thought.

Then he saw the sliver of light where the living room door stood ajar.

Immediately Ianto was on alert. He could hear someone in the living room, a sort of shuffling noise, as though someone was going through papers.

There was someone in his flat. Silently – and he knew how to be silent, it was a skill he’d perfected by now – he went to the coat rack in the hall, taking the stun gun from the holster hidden underneath his second-favourite overcoat. He felt a little better with it in his hands, though belatedly he wondered if he shouldn’t have gone into the bedroom to get his regular gun too. Maybe he should’ve woken Jack, he thought as he pushed the door a centimetre or two further open, putting his eye to the crack.

He had to suppress a gasp as he saw the figure kneeling on the floor under the light.

The man in his living room had his back to Ianto, and seemed to be leaning over a crate, a stack of books and papers in front of him. Hunched forward, his shoulders shaking silently as he sobbed.

From this angle Ianto couldn’t see his face, but despite that he recognised him instantly.

Even if he hadn’t been able to recognise his posture or the way he looked when he cried or every hair on his head, the familiar blue coat was a dead giveaway.

Ianto bit his lip.

 _No, no, not here, not in his own home. Not him_.

He was just thinking this when a wave of intense pain swept over him, spreading up from the back of his head and gripping his temples like a vice. So intense it made his vision blur, and then for a terrifying moment white out entirely.

He heard himself let out a small whimper, falling half against the door as his knees went weak. The door came a little further open before Ianto could catch his balance again, still wracked by pain in his head, leaning against the doorframe for support.

But Jack looked up at that, turning around to stare at Ianto in the doorway. His face was a mess, tear-stained and swollen, his eyes raw. His hair and coat were both damp from the rain, Ianto saw, though he appeared to have taken off his boots at the door.

The front of his shirt was slashed and stained with arterial red.

It was then Ianto noticed what he was holding in his hands. One of Ianto’s old diaries, one from the previous year. He recognised the acid stain on the corner of the cover. Certainly not the most recent one he’d started after the previous volume had been destroyed with the Hub.

Only now there was a smear of blood on the filled-in pages; clearly it had come from Jack’s hands, which were still covered with the stuff as it coagulated. The marks on Jack’s chest looked like those of a weevil mauling, if Ianto had to guess. Only usually, the fatal kind.

He took all this in in less than a second as he stared around the room, too surprised to do anything but look. It was then he noticed that the rest of the room wasn’t the same as it had been earlier; the TV and the sofa had been moved, and there were boxes and packing crates everywhere, half-filled as if being prepared to move house. He frowned. Had Jack done this? Why? And why was he bloody, why was he sobbing, when just a moment ago Ianto was sure he’d seen him asleep in their bedroom?

It didn’t matter though. He swept aside his confusion, mind focused only on comforting Jack. He stepped fully into the room, pushing open the door. “Jack” he rasped. “Jack, what the hell happened?”

“Ianto...” sobbed Jack.

“Yes… yes, I’m here.”

But Jack seemed to ignore him. He was looking away from him, back at the diary, his head bent forward. Instantly Ianto was on his knees beside him, an arm around his back. He fought back the headache and the dizziness. “Jack! Please, tell me what’s happened, let me look after you, let me help...”

But Jack only sobbed harder, bowing his head under the harsh light of an exposed bulb; someone had taken the lampshade down, some small part of Ianto realised, growing more confused by the moment.

He started rubbing circles on Jack’s back, the wool of his coat rain-damp under Ianto's hand. Immediately, Jack’s head snapped up, staring right at him, eyes darting back and forth desperately as though searching for something.

“Jack… it’s me, I’m here...”

It was then that Ianto realised Jack wasn’t looking _at_ him; he was looking _through_ him. Jack couldn’t see him, Ianto suddenly understood. The thought made the fine hairs rise on the back of his neck.

But perhaps a moment ago, Jack had _felt_ something of his touch… Ianto couldn’t quite follow that thought to its logical conclusion as he gritted his teeth against the headache that was almost blinding him once again.

 _No._ _Not again. Not now_.

“Ianto?”

He whirled to his feet, startled by the voice from the door behind him, pulling out his stun gun and pointing it at the source with a gasp of alarm.

“ _Whoa_ , whoa whoa! Ianto, it’s only me!”

Ianto blinked a few times, heart racing wildly as he saw Jack in the doorway. For a moment he just gaped, blinking as his vision cleared, the pain in his head receding slightly.

There was Jack. Dressed in only boxer briefs and an undershirt, hair sleep-rumpled, eyes wide and disturbed as he raised his empty hands. There was no blood on him, no coat, no rain.

Ianto whirled back to look at where he’d just seen Jack kneeling on the floor. But he was gone, as were the boxes of things, the diaries and the books back in their places. The TV and the sofa and the lampshade were all there.

His eyes darted back to Jack, mouth open. Then back. Then again.

“Ianto! Put down the gun, will you?!? It’s _me!_ ”

Ianto blinked a few times, lowering the gun slowly. He let it fall from his slack fingers, dizziness passing over him again. He only realised he was going weak at the knees when Jack stepped forward and caught his weight, helping him over to the sofa.

“There we go. That’s it” Jack held him close, stroked his hair, pressed kisses to his temple and his cheek.

Ianto was rigid in his arms; he couldn’t stop staring at the place where Jack had been a moment ago.

“Dreams again?” said Jack softly.

Ianto drew up his knees, shivering convulsively, though not from the cold. He felt hot, burning in Jack’s arms. “...Yeah” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palms down until lights danced behind them. “Must be, yeah.” He opened his eyes tentatively, a little afraid of what he might see. But the room definitely looked as it should again; no boxes, no sobbing Jack getting blood on the pages of his diary.

“Want to talk about it?” Jack always asked that, being careful, never pushing too hard.

Ianto shook his head violently; it sent a lurch of pain and dizziness through him so he quickly stopped. “No thanks” he managed.

“That’s okay.”

Ianto took a deep breath, pulling himself together. “Sorry I woke you.”

Jack smiled a little sadly. “I heard you saying my name from the next room. Couldn’t stay away.”

“Did you hear... anyone else?”

“Uh, no?”

“...Never mind.”

Jack gave him a strange look. “Ianto...”

Ianto shook his head. “It’s nothing” he said, before Jack could continue. “Like you said. Dreams.”

Jack nodded, arm around Ianto’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay” he murmured, so low Ianto almost couldn’t hear him except in the rumbling vibration of Jack’s jaw against the side of his head. “We’ll get you through this. I promise.”

Ianto nodded, pressing his face against Jack’s white cotton-clad collarbone. Jack’s t-shirt was free of blood, his hair dry. He kept having to remind himself of that.

“C’mon” said Jack. “Come back to bed, hmm? You need rest.”

Ianto nodded, distracted. He let Jack help him up even though the dizziness had cleared. He went over to the window, peering out at the street.

The ground was dry, and there was no rain falling through the glow of the streetlight.

For a moment he let his palm rest against the cold glass, his breath and the heat of his skin misting the pane around his handprint. Then, taking a deep, steadying breath, Ianto let Jack lead him back to bed.

Once Ianto was back under the covers, he lay awake for a long time after Jack had fallen asleep. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Jack slept curled against his chest, arm slung protectively around Ianto’s waist, warm and even breath ghosting against his collarbone.

As comforting as it was, Ianto’s mind wouldn’t be quiet enough to let him sleep.

This had happened twice before, was the thing.

The first was several weeks ago, when Ianto had been to collect the new leather strap for Jack’s vortex manipulator: he’d spotted Rhys waiting in the queue ahead of him. But when he’d tried to say hello, Rhys had ignored him. Seconds later Ianto had been struck with a brief, blinding headache; when his vision cleared, Rhys had gone. He’d assumed then that Rhys had collected his purchase and left without noticing Ianto.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Then there had been the other time; he’d been standing by the Hub site just beside the police cordon with a clipboard, waiting for the next batch of salvage to come up. Except he’d seen Gwen, standing beside the edge of the hole. He’d thought this odd at the time, because Gwen had left with Lois that morning to go investigate a suspected alien egg trading ring operating out of the back of a pet shop in Penarth.

So he’d been surprised to see her there, standing by the edge of the canopy in the wind. At the same moment he’d noticed her, his head had started aching. He hadn’t connected the two things before, since he’d been having these headaches very often since he’d left the hospital. But now, he realised with a dry gulp, the trend was becoming more and more evident.

He thought back to when he’d seen Gwen. He’d walked up beside her, seeing her face just long enough to notice she was crying, before she’d turned away from him, hurrying off in the direction of the marquee as the wind started to pick up. He’d let her go, and hadn’t mentioned it to her later.

But though they had the same sense to them, neither of those times had been as vivid, as undeniable, as what he’d seen tonight. Despite the pain in his head and the dizziness, it had felt almost more real than the rest of the world, sharp and focused, his senses heightened. The way Jack had looked, distraught, bloodied, desperate…

Ianto shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image. He wrapped his arms around Jack, holding him close. It helped, but not as much as it should have.

Before, he could have dismissed these – what? Dreams? Hallucinations? He didn’t know – as just that. But now he wasn’t so sure.

Lying there in the dark, sleep still eluding him, Ianto spend a while mentally tallying up possible explanations for what he’d seen tonight. Not having much idea of how comparatively likely any of them were, he had to content himself with ranking them by how unpleasant the implications of each were. He felt a slight sense of dismay as he realised the idea that he was merely losing his grip on reality didn’t even make the top five.

He pressed his face to Jack’s hair, kissing him there and inhaling the smell of shampoo, listening to the comforting rhythm of Jack’s sleep breathing. He wondered if he should tell him about this. He supposed he probably should. But on the other hand, there probably wasn’t anything Jack could do about it: it would only worry him, make him fuss and fret over Ianto like he had in the first weeks after Thames House. And besides, he thought, Jack had bigger things to worry about right now.

... _Depending on where the true explanation lay on his list, that was_.

Either way, he’d think more about it tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. It still felt far too fresh, the emotion too large and raw and close to even begin to think about putting into words.

It took him a long, long time to get back to sleep, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the occasional car passing by outside as the darkness began to shift to the blue-grey before dawn.

At last he fell into a light, fitful sleep, full of flashes of dreams too formless to remember when he awoke to Jack’s phone alarm in the cold light of morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot points are afoot! Plot points and emotional bonding! 
> 
> Re: first half of this chapter... I'm certain that coming to work for Torchwood from like, literally any other job is a huge culture shock and everyone goes through a bit of an existential crisis. In fact, that's practically canon for all the others, so I wanted to explore that for Lois. I wish we'd seen more of her in canon because I love her! ~~...Also hmm MAYBE I the author am just projecting my own imposter syndrome at work, but I feel like it's in character, so. WHAT OF IT.~~
> 
> Re: second part of this chapter....Things are happening that I've been planning for ages, and I'm excited to get to them at last! I know I say that a lot in these notes, but it's pretty much always true with this story!
> 
> On a different note, I realised that tomorrow (30th May) is the six-month anniversary of when I posted the first chapter of this fic!!! Which is not like, that significant to anyone but me maybe, but happy 0.5th birthday to whatever this is and has become, I guess??? *sets off a tiny party popper just for me* 
> 
> More importantly though, I'd like to take this six-month-iversary as an opportunity to say thank you to everyone who's read this far and/or interacted with this fic in any way! I literally NEVER anticipated the lovely response this AU would get, but it's kept me motivated and dramatically elevated my mood during the quarantine and associated weird and upsetting real world times. Knowing that other people are interested in my little wish-fulfilment AU has definitely given me the strength and confidence to make this fic better and more ambitious and more elaborate than I ever expected it to get, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you all!!! Here's to an unspecified amount more!!!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think, and/or come visit me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe. I love you!!! <3


	27. Chapter 27

_**[7:05am, 18/03/2010]** _

Standing in the kitchen in the grey light of a cloudy dawn, Ianto came to a decision.

He’d tell Jack about what had happened last night, he decided as he set the coffee machine going. He remembered standing in a warehouse in front of Jack, saying to him, _I tell you everything_. An implicit promise for the future too. And besides, Ianto knew Jack made an effort to tell _him_ things these days, even though it was obviously still hard for him. He should at the very least return the favour.

He was halfway through making a pot of porridge when he heard the shower turn off in the bathroom, old pipes rattling. Porridge, Ianto felt, was a good solid breakfast over which to tell your boyfriend and boss about the strange and disturbing visions you’ve been seeing with increasing frequency lately.

He was just stirring the pot when Jack came into the kitchen, already mostly dressed and doing up his cuffs. “Bathroom’s all yours when you’re done” said Jack. He took a sip from the freshly-made cup of coffee Ianto had just set out for him, taking a moment to hum appreciatively before setting it back on the counter. Then he came up behind Ianto to wrap his arms around his waist, squeezing him gently around the middle. “Feeling better this morning?”

Ianto smiled, giving the porridge pot another stir. “A bit” he said. “Do you want jam, brown sugar, or golden syrup in yours?”

“Um… all of them?” said Jack, then laughed at the look Ianto gave him. “Huh, guess I still know how to leave you scandalised, Mister Jones… thought I’d tried everything.” he kissed Ianto’s neck.

“Jack...” said Ianto, having a hard time keeping the smile off his face. “Stop it. I’ve got something I need to tell you...”

“Aw... surely it can wait until after... _breakfast_...” Jack nipped at the skin of Ianto’s jaw, teeth scraping over the morning stubble.

Ianto sighed, forcing down the impulse to allow himself to be distracted. He was trying to accomplish something here. “ _Jack_.”

It must have been his tone of voice that made Jack draw back and give him a look. His hand cupped Ianto’s face, a comforting thumb swiping across his right cheekbone where the thin scar was. It was a habit Jack had developed since Thames House, though by now the scar had faded so it was almost invisible, a mere silvery unevenness in the skin.

“Everything okay?” asked Jack.

“Yeah.” Ianto frowned, turning off the hob; the porridge was ready. “Come on. Breakfast. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Jack nodded, frowning a little. “Ianto–”

And then his phone rang in his pocket.

Jack pulled it out and peered at the caller ID, his frown deepening as he answered it with an apologetic look to Ianto. “Hello?”

A short silence.

“Yeah” said Jack, as Ianto got a couple of bowls out of the cupboard, “...wait, really?” Ianto stopped, watching Jack freeze where he stood. “Yeah. Oh, no it’s fine… of course. Listen, keep an eye on him, don’t send him to school today. No, nothing like that – yeah. No, it’s... I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but… look, I’ll be right there, okay? Yeah. You too. See you later.”

Ianto frowned. “Something wrong?”

“Alice called” said Jack, looking at his phone as though he was afraid it might explode in his hand. “Something's happened with Steven… he might be sick, or it might be something to do with...” Jack took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll meet you later, okay? I need to go check he’s okay.”

“I’m guessing it’s not just a bug he picked up at school, then.”

“Don’t think so, no” said Jack grimly.

“Um… do you want me to call Owen? Or I could come with you?” Ianto ventured, as Jack pocketed his phone, picked up his coffee and drank the rest of it all in one, apparently heedless of how hot it was.

Jack paused at Ianto’s words, putting the cup down. He took Ianto’s face in both hands and gave him a hasty, coffee-flavoured kiss. “Not this time” he said. “Eat your porridge, get dressed, go to work. Tell the others I’ll be there soon.” Before Ianto could say anything else Jack was running out into the hallway, grabbing his holster, pulling on his coat and shoving his feet into his boots all at the same time. “Oh, and sorry about breakfast. Another time!”

“...Another time, then” said Ianto to the empty kitchen as Jack ran out of the flat, the front door slamming shut behind him.

Ianto sighed, shaking his head and putting one of the bowls back in the cupboard, ladeling out porridge for himself.

He supposed what he’d been about to tell Jack could wait until later.

* * *

Gray stood under the doorway's canopy, sheltering from the wind. It had begun to pick up, and he was just wondering if he should go back and get a warmer jacket – he was still getting used to this planet’s weather, as well as owning different clothes for different seasons – when the car pulled up in front of him.

Tosh smiled over her shoulder as he climbed into the backseat. “Morning, Gray.”

“Thanks for the lift” he said as he did every morning, clipping his seatbelt on.

“No problem” said Owen, starting the car.

Tosh swiveled in her chair, peering over at him. “Did you get the hot water fixed?”

“For now” said Gray.

“The boiler in that flat just does that sometimes” she said apologetically, as Owen drove them around the corner. “Never did figure out why.”

“It’s fine” Gray assured her. In reality, Tosh’s former flat was the nicest place he’d lived in since he was a child. It had started as a temporary arrangement, right after the Hub had been blown up and Gray had needed a place to stay, but when Tosh had told him she was moving in with Owen permanently she’d offered to sign over the lease to him officially. Since he actually had a full set of genuine twenty-first century ID documents these days, and was on Torchwood’s payroll, he’d happily taken her up on it.

It made him feel a little proud, having his own space. A little like he _fit_ in this century, with these people. A little like a real home.

Not that he didn’t miss living in the Hub sometimes; he’d grown to rather like the whirring and clicking and beeping of the machines powering up, the rattle of century-old piping and the constant sound of the water tower. He liked getting up in the morning and talking to Jack in the kitchen, and sometimes Ianto when he stayed over, before everyone else came in. He'd liked to hear Myfanwy waking up far overhead as the others began to arrive.

After the Hub had been destroyed, there was no question that Jack would move in with Ianto, and – like Tosh with Owen – in the end it was assumed without much question that he’d just stay permanently. Gray was happy for him; he’d come to like Ianto a lot, and he knew he made Jack happy. But sometimes Gray still missed seeing more of his brother.

Still, he was lucky, Gray thought as he sat in the back of the car listening to Tosh and Owen bicker affectionately about samples Owen had been keeping in the fridge for too long. Gray knew he had more than he ever thought he would have: a job that gave him a purpose, a home of his own, and a family again, bigger and more loving than he’d ever deserved.

And he helped defend this city, this life they’d built. He helped protect the people here, which – quite to his surprise at first – he found he was developing a taste for.

“Gray?”

Owen saying his name broke him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?”

“C’mon. We’re here.”

“Oh.” he realised they’d stopped, parked behind the house which contained the temporary Hub. He got out of the car, following Tosh and Owen to the door.

The wind caught the door as they trouped inside, rattling the glass; Tosh was quick enough to catch it before it slammed, closing it gently.

Lois and Ianto were at the tourist office desk when they came in; she was seated behind it, while he was laying out stacks of leaflets for the day.

“And she was _convinced_ the photocopier was haunted” Lois was saying, stifling a giggle. “Couldn’t talk her out of it. I mean, not that Gwen tried too hard, but...”

Ianto laughed too. “I suppose it’s better than telling her it was an alien photocopying their unmentionables.”

“Oh, definitely” said Lois. “But, see… now she’s decided that her calling is abstract art. ' _Haunted photocopier'_ she’s calling it, and she’s going to blow the prints up to the size of the wall and exhibit them at the local gallery… we even said we’d go to the exhibition opening next month. She said we could bring a plus one. Gwen’s not coming because it’s right when the baby’s due, but if you’re interested…?”

“Hmm. Champagne, tasteful, artistic alien porn, and undoubtedly fascinating conversation?” said Ianto. “Miss Habiba, I’d be delighted. Assuming the Rift is merciful.” He looked over his shoulder as the three of them came in, taking off their outer layers. “Morning. Coffee’s brewing upstairs, hang on…”

Tosh nodded, hanging up her jacket and scarf on the coat rack. “Thanks. Anything on the Rift monitor this morning?”

“Just a few blips in the night” said Lois. “Gwen’s already upstairs, checking the police scanner for anything that sounds like it might’ve come through.”

“I’ll go help her” said Tosh, edging around Ianto and hurrying up the stairs. “I want to check the Rift data logs too.”

“Hey Ianto, where’s Jack?” said Owen, as Gray went to peer at the new leaflets on the desk. “I want to settle the question of just how long those samples have been in the fridge, since _some_ people think they’re past their sell-by date...”

Tosh leaned down the stairs, rolling her eyes affectionately. “That mould they’re growing is about to achieve sentience and take over the world. Or at least our Chinese takeaway leftovers.”

“Oh, those?” said Ianto, “yeah, I threw those out last week, probably saving us all from horrible deaths by food poisoning in the process. Don’t thank me.” He pointedly talked over Owen’s wounded sound. “And as for Jack, he’s not here yet. He got a phonecall from Alice this morning, asking him to come over.” A slight frown creased his forehead. “Something might be the matter with Steven? He rushed off quickly, and didn’t really explain...”

“Steven?” said Gray, raising his head. “Is he okay?” He’d been both surprised and delighted when he’d learned he had even more blood relatives than he’d thought here in the twenty-first century. And he’d liked Alice and Steven as soon as he met them, especially when he’d realised they both had something of his mother’s smile.

“I hope so” said Ianto frowning deeper. “Jack seemed worried, but I think he just wanted to make sure. Anyway, he’s off seeing to that, so–”

“ _So_ , we’re going to the cemetery without him” said Gwen, coming down the stairs. She winced, leaning against the wall. “Ugh, sorry. Baby’s kicking me something awful today.”

“Must be getting bored in there” said Ianto. “What’s this about a cemetery?”

Gwen held up a PDA. “Reports of disturbances in the night. The old man who looks after the place got a terrible fright, poor thing. Three bodies stolen, great big claw marks in the ground. The police have cordoned it off.”

“Sounds like your average corpse-eating monster” said Tosh nonchalantly, coming down the stairs behind Gwen. “Come on. I’ll bring a Rift monitor with me.”

“I’ll text Jack and tell him where we’ve gone” said Ianto.

“Excellent, I’ll get the car started” said Owen.

* * *

_**[9:35am]** _

Nearly an hour later they were all rather tired and dusty and grass-stained from running around the cemetery, but they had the thing tranquilised. It was about the size of a small horse, but looked more reminiscent a cat of some kind, though its skull and limbs were oddly elongated. It was covered in coarse, rust-red fur, with fearsome bony spikes down its back and tail and scoop-like clawed feet that were clearly for digging. It also stank of rotting corpses, conclusively solving the mystery of what had dug up the handful of graves in the west corner of the cemetery. Not to mention what had frightened the frail old groundskeeper so terribly he’d called the police and locked himself in his small house by the gate.

But Lois had already gone to have tea with the man, and she had become as skilled as any of the rest of them at slipping people retcon undetected. When Ianto had left, it had been Owen, Gray, and Tosh helping each other haul the unconscious creature into the back of the car. Meanwhile, Ianto and Gwen had been consigned to search the rest of the cemetery for any more damaged graves they’d need to explain and set to rights, one half each.

By now, Ianto was largely satisfied that his half was all fine. But after a while he found himself turning, his feet leading him down a familiar grass-covered path.

It was only a small detour after all, a few rows along. He’d passed it when he was doing his systematic sweep of the place, but he hadn’t let himself look then; not until his task was done.

Yet somehow, he couldn’t leave the cemetery without going past his father’s grave. That was the only reason he'd typically come to this place, after all. Usually with Rhiannon and his mother, standing stiffly in front of the grave.

Not that Ianto particularly wanted to see his father now, or even think of him. But he was already thinking of him, and he knew he’d be thinking of him all the rest of the day if he didn’t visit while he was here.

He made the short, familiar walk in silence. As he did he heard the others’ voices fade, the sun coming out and the wind dropping. Bird song filtered down from the trees, which waved their new spring leaves in the gentle breeze.

Just up here. His father was on the end of a row where the graves started to peter out, an empty plot beside him.

Or not an empty plot anymore, Ianto saw as he came closer. There was a new grave since last he’d come here. He frowned, feet carrying him closer as the spring sun shone on his face.

And then his head began to hurt. Starting low at the back of his neck, building and growing.

With it came foreboding, a sick dread in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t stop walking though, forcing himself only to look at his father’s grave, even though something in him wanted desperately for his eyes to slip to the next one along.

He wasn’t close enough yet to read the inscription on his father’s gravestone, but he knew what it said. He had memories, bright and clear as a photograph, of standing here – eighteen years old and in a suit that didn’t really fit him, dress shoes that pinched – with his mother and sister. He’d stared and stared at that inscription then, thinking vaguely that what he was feeling probably wasn’t what he was supposed to be feeling.

The headstone was familiar. But that other grave to the left of his father’s was new.

Ianto walked through the sunlit grass, eyes fixed on the plot in front of him. His head throbbed with pain, vision beginning to white out a little. But he forced himself to keep looking as he walked towards the new grave.

It felt almost like a dream, yet utterly unlike at the same time. His vision cleared after a moment – the dizziness seemed to come in waves – and suddenly all his senses were crisp and finely-tuned; the spring of warm grass under his feet, smelling like it had just been mown. Early spring sunshine on his face, the gentle breeze still carrying a chill with it nonetheless.

His hands clenching into fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms as he approached the newer tombstone beside his father’s.

And like a dream, he half knew what he’d find when got close enough to read the inscription, simple and brief.

**_IANTO JONES  
1983 – 2009_ **

He stared at it, taking in the precise cut of the letters in the stone. Still sharp and new, barely weathered. He looked at the plot in front, not newly turned but not grown over yet. Someone had laid a bunch of shop-bought daffodils there, slightly withered – a few days old perhaps – but still bright against the dark soil. Beside them was a small, messy bunch of garden daisies and dandelions, like a child might pick.

He looked back up at his name, carved in stone. It was so clear, so undeniable, but looking at it made his head hurt and dizziness sweep over him, his hearing turning to a static roar that rose to block out the birdsong from the trees nearby.

“Ianto! Oh my god, Ianto, are you–” he realised he had stumbled to his knees when he felt Gwen’s arms around him, helping him up. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she looked between him and the graves in front of him. “Oh, Ianto… is that your dad?”

“N-no” he managed to stammer out. His mouth felt dry. “I mean, yes, but... not him! Look, that one... _that_ one!”

“What one?”

“On the left, there...”

“I don't... Ianto, what're you talking about?”

“Gwen, can you see it? Tell me you can see it?”

“See... what?” she broke off, shaking herself. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

He swung around, took her by the shoulders. “Did you see it? Did you see… my name?”

Her eyes were wide. “Ianto... no, I didn’t... I mean...” she breathed out. “You’re scaring me, Ianto.”

He realised he was staring wild-eyed at her, inches from her face, and drew back. “Look!” he turned, pointing at the plot. “There! It’s there!”

“Ianto...” she took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “There’s nothing there, love.”

He blinked, gasping out a breath as the pain in his head receded and he saw that she was right; there was only an empty plot of earth.

This did not reassure him, however. “But I _saw_ it!” he said. “Gwen, I saw... another grave, right there!” He clasped the sides of his head. “You’ve got to believe me...”

“Shush, now. I believe you. God knows we've seen weirder than disappearing graves” she said, taking his hands gently but firmly, pulling them away from his face. “...What exactly _did_ you see?”

“I saw... _my_ grave” he said, pointing at the empty plot. He went over to it, looked at it from every angle. “right there, next to Dad’s...”

She swallowed. “Okay. Okay, well, there’s nothing there now. Agreed?”

He nodded, mutely.

“Did you see anything else different?” she said. “Or, just the grave?”

He frowned, looking down. “There were flowers” he said, feeling a slight, hysterical laugh. “Someone brought me flowers! No one’s ever brought me flowers before...”

“Alright, when we get back I’m telling Jack to buy you flowers” muttered Gwen. She sounded upset, he thought. “Wait, bollocks to that, I’ll buy you them myself.”

“Appreciate the sentiment, but if you don’t mind I’ll pass on the flowers this time” said Ianto, staring at the ground. “Given the context, and all...”

Gwen winced slightly. “Okay, sorry. Did you see anything else… weird?”

He frowned deeper, looking up at the sky this time. “It was… sunny” he said, blinking up at the dense grey clouds overhead. “Did the weather change just now, or…?”

“It’s been grey all morning” said Gwen.

“Okay, then definitely add that to the weird column” said Ianto.

“Weird column’s getting fuller by the minute” said Gwen. “But if you say you saw it, I believe you” she added hastily. She began to pace, back and forth past Ianto’s father’s grave. He kept his eyes fixed on her to avoid them sliding back to the empty spot where the gravestone had been. “Could be some sort of psychic projection? Based on your fears? I mean, you did, um, nearly die” Gwen said. “Or, even simpler... it could just be, well. Trauma like you’ve been through can sometimes make you–”

“It’s _not_ the bloody trauma!” Ianto snapped, drawing back. He collected himself, standing there stiffly. “I… I mean. I am… I _do_ have... I’ve had nightmares. I’ve been having them this whole time, ever since Thames House, but these...” he shook his head. “These feel different. They feel _real_.”

“‘ _These_ ’?” said Gwen, and too late Ianto realised what he’d said. “...Ianto. Has this... has this happened before?” she narrowed her eyes, reading his answer clearly enough in his face. “Have you told Jack about this?”

He raised his head and looked at her, utterly miserable. “...I was going to tell him this morning” he said. “But then he had to rush off to see to his family, and he seemed so _worried_ , and so...” he shrugged.

Before he could continue, Gwen was pulling him into a hug. It was made awkward by how pregnant she was, but she did her best anyway, arms looping around his neck and pulling him down so he had to stoop a little, arms flailing for balance. “Oh, Ianto” she muttered into his collar. “Oh, love. I believe you, okay? And as soon as Jack comes back, we’re going to figure out what’s causing this, and fix it. Yeah?”

His hand came up gently to her back, trying to put the depth of his gratitude into the touch. “Yeah.”

* * *

As they walked back to the SUV arm in arm – Gwen texting Jack again with her free hand – Ianto’s earpiece beeped.

“Where the hell are you?” said Owen’s voice in his ear, with no preamble. “We’ve got the creature in the car, ready to take back to base. Get a move on.”

“We’re on our way” said Ianto. “We can see you. Look over to the trees, we’re waving.”

Up ahead they saw Owen turn, peering around the SUV and seeing the two of them approaching.

“Well, good” said Owen, clicking off the connection.

As they approached Lois joined them too, the six of them standing in a loose circle getting their bearings for a moment. “Well” said Owen. “I think we handled that pretty well without Jack, don’t you?” he raised an eyebrow at Gwen. “Only, I thought we said no more of this sort of thing until after the baby’s born?” He smirked at her. “As your doctor, I really can’t recommend you do this stuff, in your–”

“Yeah, yeah, no more alien chases. Though if you phrase it as _in your condition_ one more time I really will throw you down the stairs this time, Owen Harper. I know you only do that to piss me off.” She smiled tensely, patting him on the shoulder. “Joking! Joking about the stairs. But...” she drew a breath. “I’m afraid we’ve got bigger problems.” She cast Ianto a significant look.

“What?” Gray looked between the two of them. Lois frowned, and Tosh looked a little alarmed.

“Something... happened to Ianto when I found him. He saw...” she frowned, turning to him. “Ianto, do you want to explain?”

He took a deep breath, mouth suddenly dry. It may as well be now, he supposed. “I... saw... my grave” he managed.

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Your grave.”

“It had my name on it.”

“Oh. Well, it can’t be an uncommon name, can it? Half the Cardiff phonebook is called Jones for a start, and–”

“It had my birth year, and... death. Um. Last year.”

“Ianto...” Tosh reached forward, gently laying her hand on his arm. “It still could be a coincidence.”

“It was next to my father’s grave” he said, forcing out the words. “And also... it was only there for a moment. When I looked away it was gone.”

“Oh, _well_ ” said Owen. “Ghostly visions. Why didn’t you _say_.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, and was prevented from having to formulate a response by Gwen speaking again. “Ianto says he’s been seeing things like this, before now.”

He nodded. “I... I think it’s related to the headaches I’ve been having since Thames House.”

This caught Owen’s interest. “Well you could’ve told me that!” he said. Owen seemed more worried than angry, though. He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not like I’ve been trying to do a bloody large-scale study on it or anything...”

“I know, I’m sorry” said Ianto. “But these… visions...” he grimaced slightly at the word, “I didn’t relate them to... any of that, at first. But since last night, I think...” he swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s...” he clutched his head, feeling it starting to grow fuzzy again. “It wasn’t like this to start with. It’s been getting worse…” _especially in the very recent past_ , he didn’t add.

“Alright, well, when we get back I’ll search the database, see if any of the other patients have reported anything similar and I just missed it” said Owen with a long-suffering sigh, starting to move towards the SUV again. “C’mon.”

But Ianto barely heard his words. He was staring up into the sky, eyes wide, his hearing melting into a now-familiar static roar.

Overhead, the sky seemed to ripple and shift. The heavy grey layers of cloud were broken by patches of blue and sunshine, but it didn’t seem as though clouds were simply passing over a clear sky; it was more as though two pictures of different skies had been torn and glued hastily together, with the ripples shifting between the two. The whole effect was surreal and dizzying, as the rolling waves of different weather began to speed up. Twisting and rippling like some sort of bizarre, daytime aurora. For a moment, Ianto felt the nauseating sensation that the ground he was standing on was up and the sky was down, gravity the wrong way, and was struck with the impression that he was clinging to the earth, and at any moment he could fall into that great, roiling abyss of the sky.

His head throbbed, overwhelmed by waves of pain and vertigo in tandem with the waves in the sky. And suddenly he really was falling, as his legs gave way from under him, the grass coming up to meet him as he collapsed. Or he would have if several pairs of hands hadn’t caught him, holding him tight.

“Ianto!” Gwen’s voice percolated his consciousness as though from far away, and he was aware of Owen checking his pulse. He only realised he was lying flat on the ground when he raised his head, seeing Gray and Lois kneeling at his other side. Tosh was running her energy detector over him, looking as though she was about to cry.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, ignoring the lurching pain. “Th-that” he managed. “That was what happened. It’s... getting more frequent...”

“What did you see?” asked Gray.

“Um... different weather” said Ianto.

“What?”

“The Rift can affect the weather” said Tosh immediately. “Historically significant Rift events have often been accompanied by abnormal weather patterns. Thunderstorms, unexplained droughts...”

But Ianto was shaking his head as Gwen helped him sit up; he realised Owen had folded up his jacket as a rudimentary pillow. “It wasn’t like that” he said. “It wasn’t...” he found himself having trouble explaining it. “It was more like... looking at the sky on a different day. It was sunny, but today it’s grey cloud and wind. Only, it kept flipping between.”

“You said it was sunny when you saw your grave” said Gwen. “Maybe... maybe that’s the same day.”

“...Yeah.” That seemed to make sense, but he had no idea what he should make of it.

“...Um. I hesitate to bring this up” said Tosh, “but Owen, Gwen, Gray… remember… what John said? When Ianto was… I mean, when we were planning the Thames House operation? About timelines.”

They all exchanged looks over Ianto’s head. “The thought had crossed my mind” admitted Gwen, avoiding Ianto’s gaze studiously.

“If you mean I’m seeing a different timeline in which I died, trust me, it’s crossed mine too” said Ianto shortly, sitting up. With a little help, he got to his feet, brushing grass cuttings off his suit and hoping he wouldn’t collapse again.

Gwen was looking nervous. “...I don’t know enough about time stuff” she said. “We really need Jack for this.”

“He’s not answering his phone right now” said Lois. She held up her mobile. “I just tried him again.”

“Keep trying on the way back” said Gwen, nodding approvingly and offering Ianto her arm to lean on. “Right, everyone ready to go?”

To sounds of mutual agreement, they all started heading back to the SUV.

But then they heard Tosh’s voice. "Uh, everyone?"

They all turned, seeing her frozen in place. She was staring at the PDA, wide-eyed with disbelief.

“What? What is it?” said Owen, coming around to look over her shoulder. “Is it another riftquake?”

She clutched his wrist with her free hand for a moment, apparently unconsciously. “Y-yeah, just now” she said, biting her lip. “...The biggest one we’ve ever seen.”

Ianto frowned, leaning away from Gwen to crane over Tosh’s other shoulder. “How big?”

“…Off the scale” she said. “Hang on, let me recalibrate…” she fiddled with the PDA for a moment more, as they all crowded around in a tight circle. The wind was rising in cold gusts, and the SUV beside them only provided a little cover. It blew Tosh’s hair across her face but she pushed it back impatiently, looking down at the screen. “Oh, that’s...” she breathed, looking up at them. “I mean, unless there’s something wrong with the measurement equipment, but I don’t think...” she tailed off.

“What, Tosh?” asked Gwen.

“It’s not just the biggest riftquake we’ve seen. It’s the highest Rift energy reading we’ve _ever_ seen, except for... that time with Abaddon.”

Owen’s eyes went wide. “You mean when we _opened_ the Rift?”

She nodded, pale and stiff with shock. “And it seems to be increasing, too. But I don’t understand, the Rift manipulator is buried under rubble! It definitely wasn’t us… so who was it?”

They all looked at each other, no one able to give an answer.

“Could… could whatever just happened with Ianto be related to this?” Lois suggested, tentatively. She looked fearful, far out of her depth. Ianto very much sympathised.

“Definitely could be. Anything’s possible” said Gwen grimly. “And if the Rift's opening again, then I mean _literally_ anything.” She looked around at all of them. “We need to get back to base. Tell Jack to get his arse over there too, and maybe he can give us some answers.”

“Okay, but… riftquake that size, things’ll start coming through any minute” said Owen. “And if it really is like before...” he let the statement hang, the four of them who had been there remembering what they’d seen that day.

Gwen met his gaze, clasping Ianto’s forearm in a firm, comforting grasp. “Well, we’d better get a move on then, eh?”


	28. Chapter 28

_**[2:25pm, 18/03/2010]** _

In the event it took them several more hours to get back to base, having to stop at a number of small Rift emergencies in the city on their way. Owen receiving a nasty knock to the head from something that resembled a flying anteater hadn’t helped, and Tosh and Gray getting themselves briefly caught up in a small time-eddy outside John Lewis had been the last straw. But finally, bruised, exhausted and thoroughly impatient, they’d all arrived back at the house. The corpse-eater from the cemetery had been locked away in the cellar with a large pile of raw meat until they could find some more permanent home for it.

Now – taking advantage of what Ianto hoped against hope really was a lull – the six of them were grouped around the large folding dinner table in the window room, peering at Owen on his laptop. Ianto knew Tosh was keeping one eye on the Rift monitor and Gwen on the police scanner; the Rift had given them a brief respite, but not for long, they all knew.

For now though, they were taking the chance to do a bit of research.

“Okay” said Owen, pulling up the Thames House patient database as Ianto handed out the last of the cups of coffee and drew up his chair to the table. “So, if we look at the symptom reports of a total of one hundred and thirteen survivors of Thames House, including you Ianto… not that you reported sodding _anything_ to me it seems...” he made a sour face, talking over Ianto’s retort with a shake of his head, “...in the last six months… hmm, exclude the respiratory complications, limit it to records involving moderate or severe psychological or neurological issues...” he frowned, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table as the search loaded. “Huh. Three cases… one was prescribed amitryptiline for sudden onset migraines by their GP, another’s been undergoing cognitive behavioural therapy for PTSD… hmm. Another had a precautionary MRI scan after moderate head trauma... car accident, it looks like. No abnormalities found. Not much else.”

“Try including milder cases too” said Ianto, frowning. “It’s only in the last few days that it’s been getting... worse. Like this.”

Owen nodded, broadening the search and watching the results scroll down the screen. “Thirty-seven cases” he said. He frowned, skim-reading. “Headaches, anxiety flare-ups, depression symptoms. Night terrors... all seem to be pretty common.”

“You’d expect that though, wouldn’t you?” said Gwen. “I mean, after an experience like that there’s bound to be after effects. And I don’t know that people would report it as _seeing visions of another world_ , or whatever.”

“Which means if anyone else is experiencing something like Ianto is it might’ve flown under the radar, with the normal trauma responses” said Owen grimly.

Tosh stepped forward, peering down at the screen. “Try arranging them by date, maybe?” she said. “Ianto, you said this had been happening more recently...?”

"Yeah."

Owen had complied, clicking on a few options. He started at the screen for a moment, sitting back. “...Huh” he said.

“That’s...” Lois came around to look too. “That’s practically exponentially increasing...”

“Small dataset, a bit grainy, but I’d say so, yeah” said Tosh.

They all looked at each other, though most of the others seemed to be studiously avoiding Ianto’s eye.

“But...” Owen got up from his chair, beginning to pace around in front of the window. “That would mean all this is connected, and… I don’t understand. If it was just your standard depression-like symptoms you’d expect they’d be worse during the winter, but it’s March, and they’re increasing in frequency. There must be a trigger for this, or... something. But I don’t understand...”

“The sample size is still pretty small” Tosh said, laying a hand on his arm and drawing him back to the table.

“Still” said Owen, pushing the palms of his hands over his eyes. “Ugh, there’s something, some connection, but I don’t–”

“Try arranging them by geographical location” said a voice from behind them.

They all turned as one, seeing Jack standing there in the doorway.

“Jack!” said Gwen. “Took you long enough!”

Ianto let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Where were you?”

“I told you, Alice asked me to check on Steven” said Jack. There was a strange reluctance to the way he said it, and even the way he stepped into the room. But his eyes never left Ianto.

“And was he... alright?” ventured Gwen.

Jack just stared at her for a moment. “...Fine” he said, sounding slightly choked. “Fine now. He’s at home with Alice. He’s safe.”

“Well… okay. Good.” Gwen frowned. “Also, you told Ianto this morning you’d be in soon. What took you so long? We’ve had another riftquake, it’s been one hell of a morning–”

“Gwen” said Tosh, laying a hand on Gwen’s arm; she fell silent. “Jack” she said, glancing between him and Ianto. There was a sense of unease amongst them, as though the others were giving him space to tell Jack himself. “Something... something happened, that we wanted to ask you about.”

Jack looked at her for a second, and then amongst all the others, apparently collecting himself. “Okay” he said. “But first, Ianto.”

Ianto raised him head, as Jack came to kneel down beside his chair, taking his hand and looking into his face. “How are you?” Jack asked. “I came as soon as I could after Gwen’s message earlier, but… has anything… happened?”

Ianto stared at him, then looked up at the others. He wanted to laugh, or perhaps cry. “Yeah, actually” he said. “Yeah, some stuff has been happening.”

Jack’s hand tightened just a little on his, a silent question. Gwen gave Ianto an encouraging nod.

Ianto sighed, and slowly, haltingly, told Jack everything as best he could describe it.

When he was finished there was silence, and in the silence Jack stood up, leaning back against the desk in wide-eyed shock. “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” he rasped.

Ianto winced; he didn’t actually have a very good answer to that. “I… did try. This morning” he said. “But you rushed off so quickly, and I didn’t want to worry you more.” he shrugged. “And before that, well. I didn’t think it was important, you know? I didn’t think it was more than, oh, I don’t know. Nightmares. We all get those, don’t we? And we carry on.”

Jack opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to form words.

“What is it, Jack?” said Gwen, stepping forwards. “There’s something about this that’s scared you. This is bigger than just Ianto, isn’t it? You know what’s going on.”

Jack raised his head, looking right at her. “This morning” he said, “Steven walked into his bedroom to get his school books after breakfast, and found it all packed up. His bed and chair gone, all his toys and his clothes and books packed into boxes. He told me he heard his mother crying in the corridor behind him. Then he collapsed, and Alice found him like that, sobbing on the floor. Not knowing what else to do, she called me.” Jack stared at Ianto, who looked around at the others around the table. Everyone was quiet, listening to Jack.

Jack took a breath and carried on. “When I saw that, I had a pretty good guess about what was going on. I hoped I was wrong. _God_ , I hoped I was wrong. But with what you’ve said, Ianto...” he shook his head.

“Well?” said Ianto. “Go on then.” He waited, arms folded. “Tell us.”

“What you’re seeing is another timeline. Specifically, one where you died in Thames House. The reason you’re getting headaches, feeling faint, is that the human consciousness isn’t equipped to exist in two versions of reality at once. Double the sensory information... your brain can’t cope with it, doesn’t know how to interpret it. So it starts to shut down.” He sighed. “The borders of the timelines are getting closer together, and you’re at the centre of it. Makes it easier for you to slip through, especially since there’s no other you in that timeline to balance things out.”

“...Okay... but _why_ , Jack? Why is this happening to me?”

Jack avoiding his eye. “I wasn’t certain at first” he said. “I’m… look, there’s still other possible explanations...” he sighed, seeing Ianto’s expression. “The riftquakes” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it on this scale before, which is part of the reason I didn’t recognise it from the start.”

“Jack.”

Jack looked back up at them all. “STIC” he said. “The riftquakes look like STIC-precursors. We were taught to recognise them in training, for the Time Agency.”

“Stick?” said Tosh. “What’s that?”

“STIC. S-T-I-C. It’s an acronym.”

“What does it stand for?”

“...Spatio-temporal inversion collapse” said Jack, with great reluctance. “Basically, space and time goes unstable. Can happen when a small weak point is put under more stress than it can handle, and once it passes a certain point...” he gestured, staring at a point somewhere just over Ianto’s shoulder. “Time and space rips open, turning inside out.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound good” said Owen.

“Yeah, no kidding” said Jack. “Once a fissure like that is open, it can pull things into the void.”

“...People?” said Ianto, thinking with dread of Flat Holm, and the Rift. Except, from what he knew of the void, there was no coming back.

Jack shook his head. “Bigger.”

“How big?”

He sighed. “Let me tell you a story. There was this case study we learned about… a cautionary tale about misuse of a vortex manipulator. The Bessel-van Chant disaster.”

“What happened?”

Jack avoided everyone’s eye. “Roslyn Quai Bessel, an interplanetary cargo hauler in the early forty-ninth century. Her fiancee Aurelia van Chant was killed in a freighter crash, right in the jump to light speed. Nasty accident, no survivors found when the rescue crews came. So Bessel enlisted to the Time Agency – which had just been set up then, and was without most of the common-sense safety regulations they had later – to gain access to an easy means of time travel.” He held up his wrist, pointing at the leather strap. Ianto thought he could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it.

“She went back to save her?”

Jack nodded. “Ignored every single warning… I never understood why she’d do that, at the time. She must’ve known it wouldn’t end well…” he swallowed. “But anyway. She went back and stopped the ships crashing, saving van Chant and two hundred and thirty-five other victims of the crash. Afterwards, the two went off to live on one of the system’s ocean moons.”

“Happily ever after” said Owen.

“Or so it seemed at first. But it meant that Bessel never joined the time agency, never got her vortex manipulator, and never traveled back to save her love. That meant their happy ending didn’t _start_ from anywhere. All those others too. They all went about their lives, changing things in the world. But it wasn’t internally consistent; as far as space-time knew, there was a _lot_ of missing causality. And causality is the anchor that keeps events in the right order, so things eventually started to... reassert themselves, bit by bit. The universe started to course-correct, showing echoes of the other timeline. Eventually, it began to oscillate between two mutually inconsistent timelines, throwing off ripples into the surrounding areas; people would’ve seen ghosts of the other timeline, which only helped establish the truth of it, making the rippling worse. Eventually it hit a critical point: resonance.”

“And then?”

“It was too much strain for the structural integrity of space-time to hold. It split open, a great big Rift turning all of the surrounding space and time inside out. Like ours, but on a galactic scale. And much more unstable, sucking things in with the gravity of a thousand black holes. It grew so big so fast, it tore out vast chunks of the e’Liaran-beta stellar cluster. Ripped them straight out of the sky and into the void, including seventy-five inhabited planets. Twenty-eight time agents were lost trying to close it; we still don’t know their names because they weren’t just killed, they were wiped out of history. They didn't even manage to close it in the end, they were forced to just time-lock the whole cluster so it wouldn't spread. It’s remembered as one of the worst spatio-temporal disasters in the known history of the universe.”

Everyone was silent, staring at him with their mouths slightly open.

“Yeah, exactly.” Jack swallowed. “A inversion collapse like that is one of the worst potential outcomes of an unraveling paradox. Usually caused by desperate people messing around with history without knowing what they’re doing.”

“A paradox...” Ianto frowned, hoping there was some other conclusion to come to. He looked around at the others. Beside him Tosh was pale and shaking, grasping the edge of the table. “When you all saved me, and all those other people...”

Tosh’s voice was small. “Is this... is this our fault then, Jack?”

“ _No_. You did everything right.” Jack looked aggrieved. “The paradox was supposed to be sealed, John made sure of it. He’d never be so careless with time and space as to leave a paradox unsealed. And from what he told me, you really did take every measure he advised to prevent STIC. You didn’t mess with the causes of events, only their effects. Didn’t touch anything else, and above all made sure not to do anything that was inconsistent with you being able to save Ianto in the first place. No contradictions there, just a branching timeline. Any paradox should’ve been minor, and self-contained. The timeline should’ve been stable. It _was_ stable.” Jack looked at Ianto, stepping forward and taking his hands.

Ianto was a little alarmed to find Jack’s hands trembling. Despite his frustration, he ran his thumbs across Jack’s knuckles in a way he hoped was soothing. “Then... what happened?” he frowned.

Jack looked up at him, saying nothing. He had that look on, like he was trying to memorise Ianto’s face.

Ianto pressed a little harder with his thumb on the back of Jack's hand. “Jack.”

He swallowed. “Like I said,” he gestured at Owen’s laptop, “plot the addresses of all the Thames House patients on the map.”

Owen frowned. “...Why–?”

“Owen. Just do it.”

Owen raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest as he clicked through the options. “There we go” he said, loading up the map. “A few scattered around the country who were visiting – journalists maybe, or civil servants who commute – but most of the addresses are around London, obviously. Want me to zoom in, or–”

“No” said Jack shortly. “Now, plot the ones that reported those symptoms you filtered for, earlier.”

Owen frowned, clicking through. “...Huh” he said.

“Yeah” said Jack.

Gwen leaned over his shoulder. “What?” she said. “What’s the problem?”

“None of them are in central London?” ventured Lois. “They’re all sort of around Oxfordshire, the West Midlands, a couple on the south coast and in the West Country. Ianto, that one’s you” she said, pointing to the single dot in Cardiff.

Tosh frowned. “If it was just a random sample of the original dataset, you’d expect them to be concentrated in London too” she mused. “So... what’s so special about–” she turned and looked at Ianto, eyes widening in understanding. “Oh… the Rift?”

Jack sighed. “Yeah. The Rift” he said. “You’re the centre of the paradox – your blood was used to save all those people, you’re by far the most causally wrapped up in this – and you live right on top of a spatio-temporally unstable zone.” Seeing Ianto’s look of confusion, he sighed. “Look, think of it like this. The others saving you made something like a small, surgical cut in the fabric of space-time. Which would be okay, normally; the stress on it would ease off as time passed in your personal timeframe and it would just seal up after a while, unless something else destabilised it. But the Rift... it’s like a really big tear. Loosely stitched closed, mostly. But if you have a little tear under stress, next to a big tear...”

“...the whole thing can start to rip open.”

“Yeah. Basically, turns out it wasn’t the best idea to bring you here.”

Ianto frowned. “Okay. Okay...” he bit down on his lip, trying to think clearly. “What about the other Thames House patients? If I’m part of this, then so are they...”

“The others were all fine, most of them lived in London or surrounding areas. I thought, how much damage can it do, bringing you back to Cardiff?” Jack laughed, a little bitterly.

Ianto frowned. “Okay, so I go. I run away to... I don’t know, Australia or something.”

“Too late” said Jack. “It must’ve been triggered as soon as you got here.”

“That was around when the first riftquake was” said Tosh.

“Yeah. But if Ianto left now – even left the planet – it wouldn’t stop it.” He sighed, shook his head. “And me being around probably doesn’t help… I’m a fixed point in time and space. So, to return to the sheet of fabric thing, it’s like sticking the point of a pencil down right near the little tear.”

“Jack.” Ianto looked up at him. “Did you know this would happen?”

Jack avoided his eye. “Like I said, John warned me it _might_ , but I thought he was being over-cautious. Hell, with the information we had then, he _was_ being over-cautious...” he shook his head. “But neither of us had ever seen a situation like this before.”

But Gwen was shaking her head. “Surely” she said, “surely it can’t just be that. One person saved, living on top of the Rift... spatially unstable people happen to this place all the time. _You_ bloody live here, Jack.”

He laughed, unhappily. “Yeah” he said. “Which takes us back to why I was late back after seeing Steven. I was doing a bit of my own research. Turns out...” he took a deep breath and sighed. “There’s something under the Rift. And it’s picked now, while the Rift is weak, to try to get out. Well. It’s had help.”

Gwen still appeared skeptical. “Something? What sort of something?”

“Her name is Syriath. An ancient being, trapped under the Rift before time.”

“What, _another_ one?” Owen wondered aloud. “How many of ‘em can even fit down there?”

“What?” said Gray.

“Oh. Big scary demon under the Rift one time. Long story.”

“ _What?_ ” said Lois.

Jack sighed. “The point _is_ , Syriath is taking advantage of the weakness of the Rift. Pushing on it from underneath; if she breaks through it won’t just be into our reality, but every single reality. That’s what neither John or I anticipated. That’s what’s been accelerating this, preventing the paradox from sealing itself, making it threaten the Rift.”

“Okay, okay” said Gwen, thinking. “So, what happens if this Syriath escapes?”

“The realities would merge; Syriath thrives on death and chaos, and there would be plenty of it.” Jack shook his head, laying a hand on Ianto’s shoulder protectively. “Thing is, that’s looking like the best case scenario at this point. At least then, all those worlds would still exist.”

“The... what did you call it?” asked Gwen.

“Spatio-temporal inversion collapse” supplied Ianto, before Jack could.

Jack winced. “Yeah. That.” He laughed humourlessly. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It explains the riftquakes, it explains everything.”

There was a short silence as they all processed this. “Wait” said Gray. “What about Steven? He wasn’t in Thames House.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand that either” he said, frowning. “The only thing I can think is that somehow, in that other reality… Steven died too.”

Ianto caught Jack’s other hand, still on his shoulder. Comforting him with his presence against the idea of such losses, one blow after another. He thought back to that other Jack, the one he’d seen in his flat. The blood on him, the distraught look in his eyes.

He stood up, turning to face Jack. “How do we stop it?” he said. “How do we fix this?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “I don’t know” he said, looking from one of them to the next. “I don’t know what to do.”

There was another silence, more strained this time.

And then the Rift alarm started to sound.

“Aw, bollocks! _Again?_ ” snapped Gwen. “Tosh! Is this an aftershock?”

Tosh was opening up her own laptop on the other side of the table, peering at the data. “Yeah, but a big one” she said. “Close to the size of the main quake, or maybe bigger. We should get ready to mobilise.”

“I’ll keep checking for reports” said Lois. “If there’s anything – oh, god.”

“What?” Ianto looked over at her, as the others began to get up from the table, “what is it?”

“Reports of a disturbance at the train station. There’s something on the tracks... something big. It just appeared there.”

“Hang on, let me get the CCTV footage up” said Tosh, typing furiously at her laptop. “...Oh, that’s...”

Gray came around behind her, looking over her shoulder. “What _is_ that?”

“No, idea, but apparently it can fly, and... oh my _god_ , it’s...” she gasped, as they all watched the CCTV feed. “It just picked up…! It’s carrying….”

“It’s flying away carrying a bloody train car, is what it’s doing” said Owen grimly. “C’mon, I’ll get the harpoon gun.”

“Getting another report” interrupted Ianto, who had been peering down at his PDA. “Dental practice in Roath, gushing purple gas from the windows, everyone inside screaming and running out into the street. Police are on their way to the scene.” He squinted. “That doesn’t sound good to me...”

“Yeah, probably not” said Jack grimly. “But it’s just the start of it. The Rift’s getting more and more unstable...”

“Yeah, thanks for that Jack. Not helpful” said Owen.

“...Yeah.” Jack breathed out, nodding and visibly snapping back into captain mode. “Right. Owen, Lois, I want you at that dentist’s surgery. Bring gas masks, as many as we have. We don’t know what’s in there, but try and get everyone out. Gray, Tosh, you two are going to the train station. And don’t forget that harpoon gun. Gwen... stay here.” He looked up to her. “I don’t want you putting your baby at risk...”

“Jack, bloody everyone’s at risk!” she protested, though she did hesitate for a moment, putting her hand on top of her bump, “I want to help.”

“No” Jack persisted. “You can’t fight like that, trust me, I–”

“Wait” said Gwen, holding up her hand. “Getting a phone call.” She pulled out her phone, everyone in motion around her. Ianto met Lois’s eye; she looked tense and afraid, but she gave him a nod, and he gave her one back, knowing she was thinking of their conversation the other day.

He turned away from her, and back to Jack. “What about me?” he said. “What should I do?”

“You’re staying here.”

“No I’m not. I’m just as capable of–”

But Jack interrupted him. “You’ve nearly collapsed twice today already, Ianto. Besides, I suspect you moving around the city might be... making the Rift even more unstable. Your timeline’s all tangled up in it now.”

“Like alien tentacles stuck in the mechanism of an office shredder. Pulling _really_ doesn’t help” said Owen, on the way past with the harpoon gun. “...Oh, that was before your time. Don’t ask.”

Ianto glared back at Jack as Owen hurried off. “I’m _not_ just staying here while the rest of you fight this.”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“What, all nice and safe?” he said bitterly.

But before Jack could reply, Gwen was back, pale and afraid as she stared at her phone. “That was Rhys” she said. “Says he’s at a pub in town, with some mates… it was his day off today...” she caught her breath, clearly trying to calm down. Ianto laid his hand on the back of her arm, and she seemed grateful for the touch. “Says there’s something there. ...Ghosts.”

Jack exchanged a look with Ianto. “Ghosts? What kind of ghosts?”

Gwen shook her head. “No idea” she said. “…The call cut off before he could tell me. I’m worried, Jack. I need to go to him.”

“It could be a trap.”

“Or, it could be the Rift.”

Jack hesitated. “Okay” he said. “Track Rhys’s phone, go and find him. But make sure to stay safe, okay?”

She nodded, already pulling on her jacket. “I promise.”

Gray came up to them next. “We’re ready to go” he told Jack. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll catch you up” said Jack. “I need to stay here, and–”

“For god’s sake! You don’t need to look after me, Jack!” Ianto put in.

“...I was _going_ to say I need to check something in the archives” said Jack, as the others all gathered around again. His eyes passed over all their faces. “Call me if you need me.”

Gray nodded, clasping Jack’s forearm for a moment before the rest of them trouped out, leaving Jack and Ianto alone.

* * *

Ianto didn’t know what to do with himself, all alone in the window room. He paced for a few minutes, then listened to the others talking over the open comms while driving. Then he lost patience, and went to find Jack in the temporary archives. “Need any help?” he said from the door, watching Jack bent over a filing cabinet. He resisted the urge to either come up behind Jack and put his hand on his arse where the fabric stretched over it so nicely, or to bemoan the severe damage to his filing system; he supposed there’d be plenty of time for both those things if the world still existed tomorrow.

Jack turned and looked up at him. “No, it’s fine” he said.

Ianto walked closer, picking up one of the files and paging through it. “What’re you looking for, anyway?”

Jack frowned. “Old notes” he said. “From a friend of mine.”

“Specific” commented Ianto dryly. “If you give me more to go on, I can check the index, see if it’s been salvaged yet, or–”

“It’s okay” said Jack. “I’ll manage. It was just on the off chance, anyway.”

“Okay.” Ianto frowned, catching Jack’s arm before he could turn away from him again. “Jack” he said. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Maybe if I had, we could’ve done something sooner...”

Jack shook his head. “Not your fault.”

“...Not yours, either.”

Jack only let out an incredulous sound. “You think?”

Ianto frowned. What _did_ he think? “You risked the integrity of time and space, the whole world – the whole galaxy, maybe – just to bring me home.”

Jack just stared back at him, a tiny, fond smile on his face. “When you put it like that...”

“Jack... _why?”_

Jack’s face nearly broke his heart. “I was stupid” he said. “I convinced myself that there was no danger. Even John warned me against it...”

But there was something in Jack’s manner that made him wary, and it made his voice come out sharp. “Then why? Why did you do it?!?”

“Because I wanted to bring you home!” snapped Jack, with a sudden flash of frustration. “With me! That’s all there is to it. There’s no greater cause, no secrets now. I let myself believe maybe it would be okay. That everything would go back to normal, and maybe I’d get to keep someone for once in my long, long life.”

Ianto shook his head, irritated by this answer for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate. “This isn’t like you. You’re always the one who makes the hard choices, and makes them right. What’s happened to you, Jack?”

“What’s happened to me? What’s _happened_ to me? I nearly lost _you_ , is what happened to me!” He glared back at Ianto for a moment, defiant. “Is that what you want to hear? Are you happy?”

“Happy? No, of course not! You let it blind you to the danger! You wanted everything to be okay again, so you decided it just was, and kept going.”

“Now, that’s not fair…”

“Oh?” in some part of himself, Ianto knew Jack was right. But for now he felt his own anger expanding in his chest, fueled by his fear. “Remember when I risked the lives of every human on the planet because I thought I could save Lisa? I distinctly remember you holding a gun to my head for that.”

Jack visibly flinched. “ _Not_ the same.”

Ianto scoffed. “Oh no, of course it’s not the same, Jack. This is _much_ worse!”

“Ianto...”

He laughed, bitter and incredulous. “I didn’t have enough ambition, clearly. Why stop with the human race on planet earth? Why not go bigger? Maybe every living being in the galaxy, or oh, maybe even the local cluster?”

Jack’s voice sounded wrecked. “Ianto. _Stop_.”

And almost to his own surprise, Ianto stopped. The harsh words he’d been about to fling at Jack died on his tongue as he felt a wash of fear; he was so _tired_ of being afraid. Tired of Jack having to make these choices alone. Tired of being powerless, of having to be saved. That was why he was angry, he realised. He looked up at Jack, who for a moment met his gaze, eyes narrowed and teary, before turning away, walking to the other side of the room. Ianto sighed, reaching out. “Jack” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“No” said Jack. He was leaning over Ianto’s desk, propped up with both hands and looking over his shoulder. “You’re right. ”

Ianto held his hand out to Jack tentatively. “Come on now. There must be something that can be done to fix this.”

“I think so, yeah” said Jack, hands in his pockets. “I’m looking, Ianto. I promise.”

“Something _I_ can do” continued Ianto, stepping into Jack’s space. When he didn’t pull away, Ianto took him in his arms, holding him loosely. “It’s me that’s the centre of it, after all.” _If all this was happening because he was alive_ … he pushed away the obvious conclusion. Only as a last resort.

“Mmm” said Jack, frowning.

“And yes, I know... what it might mean” said Ianto, pushing Jack’s chin up so he was forced to look at him. “You can’t keep me away from danger forever, Jack. Not in this job.”

Jack stared back at him, a slightly sad smile on his face. “Don’t I know it.”

“So” said Ianto. “We just need to think our way through this. When the others get back, we can find a way to stop it, just like we always do. Together.” He stroked the side of Jack’s face. “Yeah?”

Jack looked into his eyes, a complicated expression on his face as his arm came up around Ianto’s shoulders. “Sorry, Ianto” he said. “Not this time.”

And then Ianto felt a sharp sting in his bicep, and the world started to blur at the edges, heaviness descending on him. For a moment he thought it was going to be another vision, but it felt different, more familiar, _like_ … his eyes widened as he started to go limp in Jack’s arms, his muscles no longer obeying him. “You... bloody bastard...” he managed, “you d-drugged me… Jack, you _fucking…_ ah….”

Jack dropped the hypodermic on the desk and stroked Ianto's hair as he took his weight, half-dragging him towards the sofa. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Ianto. I love you...”

“Nnn… _fuck_ you Jack...”

“...and that’s why I can’t let you do this with me.”

“J-Jack!” he rasped, his anger turning to cold fear at Jack’s words. “Please… I c-can...”

“Shhh...” Jack had laid him out on the sofa by the time Ianto’s vision had started to tunnel. “I’ve got a plan, I think. I need to check some things, but I’m gonna fix this, okay? You gotta trust me.” He stroked Ianto’s hair again, kissing him softly on the forehead.

Ianto gritted his teeth, terrified by the idea of what Jack was planning, even as his consciousness faded. “P-please... Jack...”

“...Ianto, I can’t” said Jack. “God, Ianto, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I...”

But Jack’s litany of apologies was drowned as Ianto slipped beneath the heavy tide of blackness.

* * *

When Ianto woke, the world was spinning. He pushed himself up on his elbows, groggy and disorientated for a moment before he remembered what had happened. When he did, he let out a pained noise, sitting up so fast he was forced to lie down again until his head stopped spinning.

When it did he got up a little more slowly, sitting on the sofa and wrapping his arms around himself. Jack had apparently loosened his tie, unbuttoned his waistcoat, and taken off his shoes and jacket when he’d laid him on the sofa. Ianto forced himself to think as he put it all to rights again.

By the sound of it the others were still out. But clearly some time had passed, as the light was starting to grow dim in the high window above Lois’s desk. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time; 5:45pm.

Then he realised he had a notification: something had been signed out of the archives. He opened it, squinting at the small text, his vision still a little blurred from the aftereffects of the sedative.  
  


 **[Torchwood archive system: item sign-out auto-alert]  
** Time and date: 16:29, 18/03/2010  
Security level: 4  
Item code: EQ-407-322  
Item description: dimensional tether [access full archival record]  
Signed out by: Capt. Jack Harkness  
Position: Head of Torchwood Three  
Security clearance: [Unlimited]  
Name of authorising archivist: N/A  
Security clearance of authorising archivist: N/A  
  


When its meaning percolated through, Ianto frowned, uneasy. He wondered why Jack had signed out the dimensional tether. He pushed himself up to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself before going to look around. “Jack?” he said, not expecting a response. Sure enough, he didn’t get one. He sighed; he should probably be furious at Jack. And some part of him was; extremely so. But more than that he was worried. He tried the comms, but got no response. With a sigh he pulled off the earpiece and took out his phone again, dialing Jack's mobile. This time he did hear something: the sound of ringing from Jack’s makeshift office down the hallway. Poking his head through the door, Ianto saw Jack’s phone on the desk, glowing and vibrating as the call came through. He frowned, clicking the end call button with a little too much force in his annoyance. There went his idea of tracking Jack’s phone then.

He tried to think clearly and rationally as he walked down the stairs to the tourist office, beginning to tidy the leaflets out of pure nervous habit. The others would be back soon, and then they could find Jack and come up with a plan. It would be fine, they’d fix this. Besides, Jack couldn’t die... how much trouble could he really get into?

Ianto sighed, wishing he hadn’t had that thought; from long experience, he knew the answer was definitely _a lot_.

His hands stilled on the leaflets as he realised that one of them was folded into a little upside down vee shape, sitting on his desk behind the counter. Frowning, he came around and picked it up, unfolding it.

There was something written on the back, hastily in black marker pen in a very familiar hand. Ianto stared at the words.  
  


_Going to fix this. Back soon.  
– Jack.  
  
_

Ianto stood there for a moment, folding the note up very small and tucking it into his inner breast pocket with his phone.

And then he made up his mind, running out of the door and down Bute Street.

He was going to find Jack.

* * *

A few minutes later Ianto stopped in front of the Millennium Centre; though it wasn’t entirely dark yet, it was past sunset and the letters were illuminated, making bright prints of the familiar words across his vision.

He stared around, vainly searching for inspiration. Despite his conviction when he’d run out the door, he had to admit he had no idea what to do. Jack was gone, and Ianto had very little to go on.

He was just thinking he should head back and try to contact the others – maybe do some proper research – when he felt his head start to cloud once more, a wave of dizziness and pain sweeping over him. Blinding, making him stumble forward, limbs unable to hold his weight for a drawn-out moment. And this time there was no one here to catch him.

Distantly, Ianto could hear himself crying out as he fell; his weight came down hard against the metal railing at his side, the cold against his hand and the bruising pain against his hip cutting through the haze. He grasped at it for support, struggling to stay upright as the pain in his head and down his neck came in nauseating waves.

...And then began to clear. Or if not to clear, then at least to level out to a steady ache, constant but just about bearable.

He raised his head, looking around him to try to get his bearings; everything looked much the same as before, but he didn’t know what to trust anymore.

And then he saw Jack.

Standing a little way in front of him – where he definitely hadn’t been a moment ago – his back to Ianto. Staring up at the Millennium Centre, lost in thought.

Ianto narrowed his eyes, making up his mind after a moment.

He came up behind Jack, placing himself shoulder to shoulder with him in front of the bright letters.

As he’d expected Jack didn’t react, but kept looking up at the words; Ianto could see the glowing letters of the inscription reflected in his eyes.

“Jack,” Ianto tried, “Jack, it’s me.” When there was no reaction, he put his hand on Jack’s arm, the texture of the fabric of his coat jarringly real; some part of him had expected his hand to pass right through it.

Not that Jack quite seemed to feel it. But he had clearly felt _something_ , because when Ianto had touched him Jack blinked, turning to the side to look at Ianto. Or rather, to where Ianto was standing; as before, Jack seemed to look through him instead of at him.

Ianto looked him up and down carefully, for signs that this was what he thought. Sure enough, this Jack was wearing a different shirt to the one he’d seen him in earlier, dark blue instead of light. He also wasn’t wearing his vortex manipulator, which told Ianto all he needed to know.

Still, it was definitely Jack; the version of Jack he’d seen last night then. The lights reflected in his eyes, but this time they weren’t teary. Jack just stared, expression studiedly neutral but for a slight frown line appearing on his forehead.

His eyes flicked backwards and forwards across Ianto’s face, seeing nothing, before he sighed, looking back up at the Millennium Centre again.

Then Jack set his jaw, squaring his shoulders with resolve. He pulled his coat closer around him and stuck his hands in the pockets as he turned away from Ianto and began walking across the Plass.

Ianto blinked, pulled from his reverie. He could still see Jack; his headache was still there, pounding and determined not to be ignored. But Ianto pushed it back, focusing his attention on Jack – that other Jack, not _his_ Jack, said some part of him, yet still Ianto ached to reach out and comfort him – who had turned his back and was walking away. Jack was nearly out of sight at the edge of the Plass now.

And he could still see him. Ianto frowned; this hadn’t happened before. None of these visions – or slips into another version of reality, or whatever they were – had ever lasted this long before.

Except soon, Ianto realised, he wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. Something in him recoiled at that idea. On that impulse, Ianto began to run after Jack.

When he reached the corner, he had run down the street a few metres before he realised he couldn’t see Jack up ahead anymore. He stumbled to a halt, swearing and leaning sideways against a bus shelter as he realised he’d lost him. Even when he raised his head, staring vainly around, he saw nothing; only people starting to come out for the night, leaving work to go home, people starting to go to restaurants and late-night shopping. Too early for the drunks and the clubbers, but later they’d be out, certainly not dressed for the early spring chill in the air.

Ianto stuck his hands in his pocket and leaned back, sitting down heavily in the bus shelter seat as his head started to ache in earnest again. It struck him that after losing Jack, he wasn’t even sure whether this was his world, or that other one. He felt a sad laugh rising in his throat; odd how little changed with his death, in the grand scheme of things. But then again, he reminded himself, Cardiff was on the cusp of a world-ending catastrophe, and those two teenage girls were still smoking on the corner by the kebab shop, the man pushing a double stroller with a baby and a toddler in it looking harried as he rushed down the pavement for the bus stop. A man and a woman huddled in warm coats, arm in arm as they hurried through the rising wind. Arguing about being late for something from the snippet of their conversation he heard as they passed.

Normal life, Ianto thought. Humanity, going about as usual. This was what Torchwood protected. What he lived to protect, and what that other version of him had died to protect.

He sighed, pulling himself back up to his feet, ignoring the spinning lurch in his head; the headaches and the dizziness were no longer coming so much in waves, but rather a slow, constant pulse of pain and nausea. He didn’t know what that meant with regard to what Jack had told him, nor did he particularly want to speculate.

He was just about to get up and turn back in defeat, when he saw Jack again.

Ianto stared, pressing himself back against the glass of the bus shelter as he watched Jack round a corner; a moment later he realised with a shock that this was actually _his_ Jack, dressed in the clothes Ianto had seen him in earlier. He watched as Jack stood on the corner of a side street, peering at his vortex manipulator.

Jack was also carrying some object under his arm, but the angle was wrong, and Ianto couldn’t see what it was.

For a moment Ianto wanted to run to him, tell him he was sorry, tell him he’d help him to fix it all. But instead he just stared, watching Jack turn and walk away from him down the street.

He was doing a lot of that today, it seemed.

It only took another moment for Ianto to decide to run after Jack, weaving through the pedestrians as Jack crossed the road to the other side where it wasn’t so busy. Determinedly, Ianto ran after him, pausing for a moment to check for rush hour traffic before running into the road.

And then, another wave of dizziness swept over him, his vision whiting out. He stumbled to one knee on the tarmac, car headlights and streetlamps blurring out into bright splashes for a moment. He was able to lurch to his feet just as he saw a car looming closer, collapsing wide-eyed and panting with adrenaline against the wall on the other side of the road. He looked around, staring at the faces of people walking past; no one seemed to react to his presence, or to the fact that he’d nearly been run over just now.

He stared at the road, very conscious of what a near miss that had been. In that other world – this world? Was he in it now? – people couldn’t see him, but he could touch them; he was corporeal to some degree even if they weren’t fully aware of him. What did that mean if he were to get hit by a car? Or to be harmed in some other way? Ianto had no idea, and thinking about it was making his head spin again.

He pushed himself up the wall, trying to calm down. He craned around for Jack, and sure enough there he was, walking down the street the same as before. He was too far away for Ianto to see much detail, but, he decided, it must be the other Jack. _Probably_. He forced himself to walk faster, keeping up. The barriers between the worlds were blurring, the two growing closer together, and Ianto didn’t need Jack’s explanation to know that when they were one, something terrible would happen; he could feel it himself now, a deep dread and a wrongness rising up in his heart like the high tide, impossible to ignore.

He was breathing hard when the next wave of dizziness came. Or perhaps it had never entirely gone away. But either way, when he managed to catch up with Jack a little he saw that he was wearing the lighter shirt, pausing to check his vortex manipulator again before turning down a side street. Ianto followed after him, pushing past a group of people, nearly stumbling and missing his footing as his shoulder collided with a tall bulky man’s.

“Oi, mate, watch where you’re going!” said the man, shoving Ianto in the side. Ianto stumbled, missing his footing and landing painfully, shoulder bruising against the brick wall as his vision swam. The man shook his head. “Bloody drunks...”

Ianto breathed out as the man left him behind. He almost did feel drunk, the spinning and the dizziness and the pain in his head near constant now. But he forced himself to get up, to carry on. Jack had got ahead of him a little. He could make out the familiar coat-clad figure in the crowd, but no details. Nothing to tell him whether this was _his_ Jack, or the other.

But no, he was in his own world, Ianto reasoned. That man had seen him, had been able to touch him. Still, he could feel the edges blurring as he followed Jack down a narrower street. He knew there wasn’t much time left.

Just as he saw Jack emerge from the far end of the alley onto a wider street, Ianto saw something shift in his peripheral vision. And then it was too late, and the figure was looming out from the shadows behind a cluster of bins. At the same time as it stepped into the light of the streetlamp, Ianto heard the animalistic growl; a weevil, lurching towards him out of the dark.

Ianto cried out, reflexes slowed by the pain and the dizziness, nearly losing his footing on the potholed tarmac as he dodged out of the way. But he was too slow, falling against the wall, the side of his head striking the bricks hard. Again he pushed through the pain, forcing his body into motion as the weevil swiped at him. It caught the upper arm of his jacket, tearing his sleeve and making pain bloom there. He winced, rolling aside and starting to reach for his gun as he scrambled to his feet, but before he could defend himself it slammed down against his back, pushing him painfully to the ground. He could feel the heat and weight of the creature above him, its smell filling his nose and throat, and it was rolling him over with more-than-human strength, lunging for his throat with its teeth–

And then the world shifted, and there was suddenly nothing there. Ianto gasped with shock, lying spread-eagled on the tarmac, his breaths hard and rasping as he let his racing heart slow. Then he sat up and looked all around him; the alley appeared to be empty in this reality he’d slipped into.

More importantly, he could see Jack beyond the end of the passageway, crossing the street and going into a building on the other side.

Ianto only paused for a moment to catch his breath, before pulling himself painfully to his feet and running after him.

* * *

The bar was busy when he stepped inside, though somehow it didn’t seem like the usual after-work crowd. He looked around; come to think of it, for all he’d walked down this street time and time again, he’d never known this place existed. It certainly didn’t look like all the other pubs in the area.

Ianto craned over the dense press of people, searching for Jack. When he couldn’t see him, he went over to the bar and ordered a half pint of the only bitter they seemed to have on tap; not a name he knew.

When the rather fearsome-looking middle aged lady behind the bar passed him his drink, Ianto took a sip, put down his glass on the mat, and asked, “have you seen a man come in here? Wearing an old RAF greatcoat, would’ve been a few minutes ago.”

The bartender gave him a long, appraising look. “Who wants to know?”

“A colleague of his.”

The bartender smiled, a little too knowing for Ianto’s liking. “Through there” she said, nodding at a discrete door on the side that Ianto hadn’t noticed before. “Don’t guarantee she’ll be done with him yet, though.”

Ianto raised his eyebrows, looking at that door. He was about to ask who _she_ was, but when he looked back the bartender was already serving someone else.

Ianto took another gulp of beer – it was better than he’d expected – and put down his glass, sliding off the bar and walking to the door.

It took him to another room, quieter than the main space of the pub, hung with red-shaded drapery and smelling of some strange incense he couldn’t quite identify. He frowned, looking around just in time to see another door on the other side of the room close, a figure fading and warping in the elaborately cut glass panels as they passed through.

 _Jack_ , he realised. He'd begun to make for the door too when a voice came from beside him.

“Ianto Jones.”

He froze, head turning almost involuntarily. Whatever he was expecting to see, it was not a little girl in a lace-trimmed dress, sitting alone at a table. Nor was he expecting the way she looked at him; her gaze was not like any child’s he’d ever seen. Outwardly she looked about ten, but there was something about her eyes that looked ageless, both young and old at once. She met his eye, nodding to the empty chair across from her.

He looked down at the table. In front of her were a set of tarot cards, laid face down.

He frowned. “Sorry, I’m rather in a hurry. I don’t have time for–” he broke off as she turned over one of the cards. “ _Jack of Swords_ ” read Ianto, frowning in confusion. “But... but that’s a picture of Jack. Why–”

He broke off as she nodded at the chair on the other side of the table.

He cast a longing look back to the door on the other side of the room, but he couldn’t see Jack anymore; not even the outline of him, blurred and distorted through the glass.

He looked back at the girl in front of him, sighing in frustration and sitting down. “Look” he said as she began to pick up the cards, gathering them and interchanging them in some complex pattern before laying them out face down again, “I don’t want my fortune told. I just want to know where Jack’s gone, what he’s doing.”

The girl ignored him. She’d laid out three cards in a row between them, and looked up at him as she turned over the one on the end. “The tower. Upright.”

He gave her a blank look, gritting his teeth a moment later as his head pulsed with pain again, making him grip the edges of his chair; it was too warm in here, and the smell of the incense was making him feel a little sick. “Okay” he said, loosening his tie. “Okay, start with this. Which version of Jack was it that was in here?” Ianto didn’t want to beat around the bush. He guessed she knew at least some of what was going on.

She looked up at him, unblinking. “All versions” she told him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“All versions” she said again. “In every world, the Captain must come here tonight. ...Every world that survives tonight, that is.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So, you’re saying this world will survive?”

“I didn’t say that” she said. “He comes here in all world that survive. I didn’t say that all worlds survive in which he comes here.”

“...Oh” said Ianto faintly, trying to parse this despite the clouds filling up his mind. He felt disconnected somehow, just a little to the left of reality as he knew it. He wished he hadn’t left his drink at the bar. “...Um, anything I can do to help with the surviving part?”

She turned over the middle card. “The hanged man, reversed.”

He frowned. That didn’t seem good. “Right. Right, hmm” he said, trying to think. “Well, okay, answer me this. I’m guessing Jack’s got a plan of some sort, probably a very stupid and reckless one, but a plan. How can I find him? How can I help him?”

The girl looked up at him, slowly turning over the last card. “Death” she said. “Upright.”

Ianto stared at the card, as pain washed over him. His head pounded and his chest felt like it was about to burst unless he got out of here soon. Abruptly, he stood up, slamming his hands down on the table in frustration, making the cards jump. “That’s not an answer! Where did he _go_? What’s he planning?”

The girl smiled a little sadly as she began to tidy away the cards. “The answer” she told him, “is already in your pocket.”

Ianto hesitated, feeling slightly foolish as he reached into his trouser pockets. There was nothing there except his wallet, and his keys with their plastic keychain of the kind displayed in the tourist office. Next he tried his jacket pockets; in the left was his Torchwood swipecard on its lanyard, 44p in loose change and a couple of paperclips. In the right was his stopwatch, recently salvaged from the Hub site. He’d just got it back from the repair shop last week. Ianto frowned, clicking the button on impulse and listening to the ticking for a moment before putting the watch back. “I don’t have time for this” he said. “If you don’t have anything useful to tell me, then I’m going after Jack myself. With or without your help.”

But as he looked up he saw that the girl had disappeared along with her tarot cards. There was only an empty table, the background noise and the humid air of the room pressing in too close.

With a noise of frustration, Ianto pushed his way back out of the bar. Outside on the street the wind was picking up, clouds moving fast and low, lit from beneath by the low orange glow of the city lights. He looked down the street in one direction and then the other, momentarily at a loss. He’d spoken with confidence about going to find Jack, but that was different to having a concrete place to start. He reached into his inner pocket for his phone; maybe he should try phoning one of the others again. Maybe Jack had just come back on his own. Maybe he was sitting at his desk right now, having found a solution easily. Maybe–

But as Ianto drew the phone from inside his jacket, something else fell out with it. A rectangle of folded paper that had been wrapped around it. The wind plucked at it on the pavement but Ianto ran a few steps and brought his foot down, keeping it from blowing away.

He was about to throw it in the nearest bin when he remembered what it was. Jack’s note. He unfolded it, looking at the black ink on the white paper, smoothing out the creases. He stared at Jack’s familiar handwriting as though he might divine Jack’s thoughts from it, but there was nothing; only the simple message.

_Going to fix this. Back soon.  
– Jack._

Ianto sighed, crumpling up the paper in frustration. He was about to throw it away after all, but changed his mind at the last moment. Instead he smoothed out the creases again neatly, starting to fold it small to put back in his pocket.

And that was when he noticed what was on the other side.

It was a flier, printed on A5 in normal black and white photocopier ink; it looked like something someone had done at home. He vaguely remembered these being delivered a few weeks ago, with the other fliers and leaflets for tourist attractions. He peered at the words.  
  


_**THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD**  
Come experience the most haunted pub in Wales  
Open for one final night!  
Doors open 7pm, 18th March 2010.  
  
_

He stared at the date. And then the address, printed at the bottom of the page.

And then, he turned around and began to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I realise this chapter is long and there's a lot going on in it, but I couldn't find a good place to split it so here you go!  
> Also, now seems like a good time to mention that if you're not familiar with the Torchwood audio The House of the Dead, the next chapter uses that as a jumping off point (which is at this point officially no longer a spoiler!). I've tried and will continue to try to write this story assuming no prior knowledge of The House of the Dead (or any of the audio content) since it's not main series canon. However, I think that it might enhance the experience to have some idea of the plot. So, optional homework: familiarise yourself with The House of the Dead! You can listen to it on BBC iPlayer [here](https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b012fqsz), or outside the UK [this version](https://archive.org/details/3TheHouseOfTheDead130711) should work. If you don't want to listen, there's a transcript [here](https://sariagray.livejournal.com/81114.html) and a plot summary on the wiki [here](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/The_House_of_the_Dead_\(audio_story\)). Again, hopefully won't be necessary but just in case anyone wants a point of reference for all this stuff! (Warning, though: HOTD is really sad. Like, REALLY sad. Bring tissues.)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and more soon! Let me know what you think, and as always, catch me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe.


	29. Chapter 29

_**[4:30pm, 18/03/2010]** _

Gwen got out of the car and frowned down at the crumpled Post-it note in her hand, on which she’d scrawled the address. She looked back at the building in front of her; it was a fairly normal-looking pub down a small back street, built of heavy grey stone. It looked somewhat older than the other buildings around it, she thought. Maybe a little shabby, but nice enough.

The door was closed. But there were warm lights on inside despite the fact that it was still daylight, so she pushed open the door and went in. She frowned, looking through the old-style stained glass panels, seeing the interior was empty.

“We’re closed, love. Don’t open ‘til seven tonight I’m afraid. Got an event on.”

Gwen jumped at the voice, whirling around to see a man emerge from a door behind the bar. “It’s fine” she said shortly. “I’m not here for a pint.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything yet, but I’m glad to hear that” said the man, eyeing her bump pointedly before beginning to tidy the glasses behind the bar.

She looked around, wondering if she should trust this. Rhys had sounded so distressed on the phone, but everything here seemed perfectly ordinary. “...Would you excuse me a second?” she asked.

The man shrugged. “’Course. You’re the one that walked into my closed pub and all...”

He had a point, thought Gwen, and then ducked outside into the street again. She pulled her coat a little closer around her as the wind picked up, then took out her phone.

Rhys picked up after the first ring. “Gwen! Oh my god Gwen, it’s good to hear your voice…”

“Hello, love. It’s good to hear yours too.” It really was, the sound of it alone a comfort. But Rhys also sounded afraid, she thought. “Listen, I’m at the pub but there’s no one here. Where are you?”

“That’s the thing, see? There’s something going on here, Gwen. We heard sirens outside, and they made everyone go down to the cellar and then they locked the door, and no one’s come back, in… oh, maybe half an hour.”

Gwen caught her breath, looking around at the street. “They locked you in the _cellar_?”

“Said something was going to happen, yeah. That we’d be safe down there. But I dunno, I didn’t trust it then, and I definitely don’t now. ...Gwen, is something going to happen? Y'know, something... Torchwood-y.”

She bit her lip, staring up at the sky as she thought about what Jack had told them all. “Look, Rhys, stay where you are for now, okay?”

He gave a huff of laughter. “Not going anywhere quickly. The bloody door’s locked!”

“Okay” she said. “Okay, okay, I’m going to get you out. Hear that Rhys? I’m going to stop this.”

“...Fine, but… be _careful_ , Gwen.”

“Always.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye, Rhys.” She tucked her phone back into her pocket, mind racing as her hand went to her gun under her coat. A moment later, she changed her mind and spent a moment rifling through the fake IDs in her inner pocket, taking out the one she wanted.

She turned back to the pub door and walked in again.

The man was still behind the bar, and looked up when she came in. “Still closed” he said with an indulgent smile. He held out a flier to her. “Come back this evening. We’ve got quite an event planned...” he narrowed his eyes, suspicious suddenly. “You’re not from the brewery, are you? One more night, that’s all we ask…”

“No.” She ignored the flier, showing him her ID. “Gwen Cooper, building inspection” she said. “I want to see your cellar.”

“...Oh.” He blinked a few time, then gave her a nervous smile. “It’s fine. It’s safe. I know there was the water leak after all them explosions last year, but that was all over the city. It wasn’t our fault, and it’s all been fixed–”

“It’s just a routine check.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she caught a hint of defensiveness to his stance. “You’ll find nothing wrong.”

She smiled, half sweet, half steel. “Then you’ll let me take a look and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then sighed, shrugging. “Okay” he said. “Right this way.”

The stairs down to the cellar from the back room were narrow and creaky, lit by a single bare bulb. Gwen peered around nervously while the man unlocked the upper door, wondering what the others were doing. After this, she decided, she would phone Ianto for an update. That, and to make sure he was okay; he hadn’t seemed best pleased with being confined to the office again. Not that Gwen could blame him for being a bit on edge after everything that had happened.

That was still happening, she reminded herself. She knew she needed to sort out what was going on here, rescue Rhys and get him somewhere safe as quickly as she could. Then she’d go help, whatever Jack said.

“There we go.” The barman’s voice broke into her thoughts, the heavy wooden door swinging open with a creak. A waft of chilly air rolled out of the darkness as he reached out and pushed a yellowed light switch, revealing more stairs in a tight square spiral. He gestured at the door. “After you.”

Gwen looked at him. “What do you keep down here?”

“Ah, you know. Beer, cider, wine… crisps, pork scratchings, some of our other stock… y’know, the usual stuff.”

“Hmm.” She poked her head around the door.

He laughed. “Go on then. The ghosts aren’t here yet. That’s for this evening.”

“Ghosts?”

He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Gwen frowned, biting her lip. “I’ll be a while. Need to take some... measurements. You don’t need to wait.”

He nodded. “Cheers, I’ll just be back behind the bar then. Let me know when you’re done… like I said, you’ll find everything’s in order...”

“I’m sure it is.”

He gave her a nod, walking back up the stairs. As soon as she saw him leave, Gwen made sure the door was standing half open and started down the stairs, the cold pressing in on her as she went. She couldn’t hear anything from down below, but still she pressed her back to the central column of the staircase, peering around each bend first. The stairs went deeper than she’d expected.

When she got to the bottom the stairs opened into a larger space, vaulted like a church crypt; it was _old_ down here, she thought. Even older than the building at street level.

It was also empty of people; that much was obvious straight away. She could see some beer barrels, some cardboard crisp boxes, a couple of wooden crates in the corner. But there was clearly no one here; though the light of the bulb strung from the ceiling wasn’t very bright, there was no obvious space for anyone to hide in. A quick check for any hidden trapdoors or entrances she hadn’t noticed also turned up nothing.

Gwen frowned, pulling out her mobile to phone Rhys back. But when she selected his number from her contacts, she was met with only a flat beep; no signal. She frowned, squinting at the small screen and seeing that indeed, there were zero bars this far down.

Then how had Rhys phoned her before?

The thought touched her with cold fingers of dread; something about the silence and the stillness down here was unsettling. But there was something else, too; just on the edge of her awareness, she could feel something, something she didn’t have a name for.

Above her the naked bulb swung in the tiniest current of cold air.

She stared at it a moment, the brightness of it imprinted on her retinas.

And then panic started within her, and she began to run for the stairs.

It was hard, running while this pregnant; internally she cursed Jack for being so right about that. Still, ungainly as it was she took the stairs two at a time, fear sluicing through her like ice water.

When Gwen arrived at the door, wild-eyed, she drew to a halt, panting; it was still just the same as it had been, standing half open. She went up to it, peered around it; no one there. She could hear the barman whistling tunelessly from somewhere else in the building, far off. Apart from that, everything was silent.

Gwen drew back from the door a few paces, breathing out quickly and leaning against the wall. Just her imagination. These last few days must have got to her. She forced herself to breathe evenly, to put one foot in front of the other and start down the stairs again. The first thing she’d do would be to give the cellar another thorough check over, and then–

And then, the light above her flickered and went out.

With a fast, in-drawn breath, Gwen whirled and began to run back up the stairs for the door. But as she neared it she felt cold air stir again.

Just as she reached it the door slammed, plunging her into total darkness.

* * *

“Sato and Thane, from Network Rail” said Tosh, holding up a fake ID to the security guard at the platform gate. “Here for a surprise inspection.”

The security guard ran his eyes over the two of them, leering a little at Tosh. Gray glared murderously back at him as he inspected the IDs, fingers lingering a little too long on the back of her hand. Tosh pulled her hand back with an expression of distaste. “Thank you _very_ much” she said icily as he let them through. As he walked past, Gray made sure to tilt the large harpoon gun slung over his back so it passed through the man’s line of vision.

“Shitting hell” came the man’s voice from behind them. “What kind of Network Rail inspectors carry a bloody gun?”

“It’s a theodolite” said Tosh smoothly, not looking back over her shoulder. “Not that I’d expect you to know what that is.” She looped her arm through Gray’s, pulling him along briskly. “Come on, let’s go.”

And with that they walked onto the platform, prepared for whatever they might find.

Which, as it turned out, was a perfectly ordinary train station on Thursday afternoon.

Tosh turned to Gray, raising her eyebrow. “Is it just me” she said, “or are we missing some kind of alien dragon… thing?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Tosh sighed, folding her arms. “Well, that’s just typical.”

Gray hefted the harpoon gun over his shoulder regretfully. “And here I was looking forward to doing something heroic with this.”

“I thought you said you _didn’t_ want to be a hero?” she raised her eyebrows with a slight teasing smile.

He shrugged. “What can I say. Maybe I’m getting a taste for it.”

She patted his arm. “Well, the day’s still young. Unfortunately. Keep that harpoon gun at the ready, will you? I’m going to check this place over.”

* * *

Some time later, Tosh was running her scanner around the platform a third time and Gray was standing by nervously, keeping watch. Sure enough, no one had seen hide nor hair of the vast alien dragon-bird creature they’d seen on the CCTV feed when they’d sat around the table with the others. Nor had their been any reports of a train being lifted into the air; the most serious incident the security guard had been able to report was a pigeon eating half a chicken and mushroom pasty on platform 3. The man had spent about twenty minutes wondering aloud to Tosh and Gray about whether that counted as cannibalism. By the end of it Gray had decided pretty conclusively that the twenty-first century was even odder than he’d thought, but also that whatever they had seen on the video feed had simply not happened.

But Gray was still wary; almost more so now, in fact. It was the middle of the afternoon, too early for the main after-work rush of commuters. Still, there was a train due in a few minutes and people were clustering in front of the scrolling departure board, under the corrugated steel canopy roof. He watched a woman leaning on a heavily-loaded luggage trolley, looking tense as she talked on the phone. Beside her a man bent down to pass his young daughter a carton of orange juice he’d just opened. Gray watched several people pull their collars up against a sudden chill wind.

He’d done this a lot, early on when he’d first left the Hub and started going out into the city. Just standing and watching people, how they behaved in this unfamiliar world, how they went about their days, Torchwood Three not being a particularly representative sample of normal twenty-first century life.

Not that he’d know what to do with a normal life like this. But he’d watched people for long enough to know what they did, and what they didn’t do.

And to know when something was wrong.

He couldn’t quite place it; whatever it was, it wasn’t what the people were actually _doing_. At first glance – and in fact, at close scrutiny – they seemed to be behaving quite normally.

No; it was something in the air, in the very way the world felt around him.

 _Like there was something_ –

Gray was jolted back to awareness, as several things happened all at the same time.

First, the train rounded the bend in the tracks, appearing in the distance on the far end of the platform. He could hear the sound of its engine, the clacking of the overhead wiring as it approached.

At the same moment something shifted in front of him. The woman talking on her phone pulled it away from her ear in shock, staring at it wide-eyed and leaning heavily for support on the trolley. But its brakes didn’t kick in, and Gray watched – as though seeing it in slow motion – as the trolley trundled along the platform, gathering speed with the minute slope for drainage onto the tracks. Gray started to move just as the man he'd seen yelled an angry exclamation, pulling his daughter out the way. But as soon as they were clear Gray had already forgotten about them, focusing on the trolley.

The trolley that was heading straight for Toshiko, standing by the platform edge. She was facing the other way and holding her scanner up in the air, absorbed in the screen of her PDA.

“ _Toshiko!_ ” Gray shouted as the trolley came rolling towards her, picking up speed with the slope of the smooth tarmac. She whirled around just quickly enough to see it heading towards her, her back to the tracks and the PDA falling from her hands onto the ground in a long, surprised moment. Gray lunged towards her, ready to push her out the way of the trolley, but he wasn’t quick enough; all he managed was to grab the hem of her jacket, and then the trolley was slamming into her, sending her stumbling sideways off the edge of the platform and Gray with her.

At the same moment there was an ear-splitting, metallic screech that seemed to vibrate through Gray’s head; for just an instant, he thought it was _them_ again, after six months of peace. But no, he realised with horror in the stretched-out moment as he and Tosh fell together towards the tracks; it was the train, heading straight towards them. Time seemed to slow as it approached, lights blazing scorching trails across his vision, the noise of it vibrating through his chest and his skull.

She was screaming, and he was screaming too as they fell. He gasped out as he felt something collide with his back, lights exploding in his vision before something heavy was falling on him and knocking the breath from his chest. Preparing for the split-second of pain that would surely come before they were instantly killed, crushed on the rails.

But it never came. Gray gasped, raising his head painfully and looking around in disbelief. There was something on top of him, crushing him – _like the rubble of that place so long ago, but he couldn’t think of it now, he couldn’t_ – but a moment later a little of the weight lifted as Tosh sat up, looming over him in his line of vision.

“Gray… _Gray!_ ” she was gasping for breath, patting the side of his face urgently as she hauled something heavy off him; he realised dimly that it was a suitcase, heavy-duty plastic bruising his ribs. He sat up, winded, starting to help her with it. As he did his vision swam, blurring for a moment before righting itself.

“Stop, don’t move” she said. “I think you hit your head on the rail. We should get Owen to check you over.”

He blinked, breathing out and pushing the suitcase off his legs, feeling a sharp pain at the back of his head. “Um” he said. “Wh... what...”

Tosh answered his question by holding up the pendant around her neck, the silver disk catching the light of the train headlights. He turned around, eyes widening as he saw the train just metres behind them, frozen in time outside the bubble that surrounded them. “Oh...” he managed faintly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah” she said, wincing. “We’re just lucky I was fast enough.”

“Are you hurt?”

She made a hissing sound through her teeth. “Just some bruises” she said. “I’ve had worse. I’m more worried about you. Second head injury this week...”

He raised his hand to the back of his head where the pain was radiating from, and found his hair sticky with blood. He winced. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse too.”

She frowned, clutching the time lock like a talisman. “Come on” she said, eyes flicking nervously over the frozen train just behind them. “Help me haul the trolley back up onto the platform and then I’ll restart time again, and we can get out of here.”

He nodded, trembling with the pain from what he was sure would be a thousand bruises as he levered himself up, pushing off the rail. A moment later he yanked his hand back from the still-hot metal, remembering something Ianto had told him a couple of months ago when they’d been hunting weevils down by the railway lines. Jack had been killed, and they’d been waiting for him to come back behind a signal box on the side of the lines, and they'd both badly wanted something with which to distract themselves. And so Gray had asked Ianto what he knew about how trains worked in this time, and Ianto had explained as as best he could, in halting tones, until Jack had gasped back to life between them.

Gray shook his head free of the memory. “Ah! I thought the power comes through the rails? How did we not get electrocuted just now?!?”

“Only the third rail is live” said Tosh, pointing at it; it was far too close for comfort to the rail he’d just been lying on, that still bore a smear of blood from Gray’s head. “But, unless I’m wrong...” she knelt down again, hand above the rail, and before he could protest, put her palm on it. Nothing happened, and she raised her head with a tired smile of triumph. “See? Not live, inside the time bubble. Time doesn’t exist outside, so technically there’s no connected power source putting a voltage across it, and therefore no current. We were safe after all.”

“You put your hand on it just to _test a theory_?”

Tosh smiled ruefully, getting to her feet again and dusting herself down. “The whole world’s gone so weird. Physics working properly is all I have left to cling to.” He noticed she winced again though. “Come on, help me move this. We don’t want the train to derail.”

He nodded, and between them – pausing here and there when one of them was in too much pain – they pulled the trolley and its contents back up onto the platform.

Once they were safely back up themselves – comfortingly far from the edge – they stood side by side for a moment, catching their breath. “Oh,” said Gray belatedly, after they’d stood in silence for a second, “thanks for saving me.”

She shook her head. “I’m just glad I was quick enough with the time lock. Let’s not think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been.”

He nodded fervently before looking back at the trolley, now frozen outside the time bubble as they’d backed up, their backs firmly to the station wall. “Do you think...”

“What?”

“Do you think that was... deliberate?”

She frowned, looking up at him. “Deliberate how?”

“I mean...” Gray said hastily, “I saw… or felt… something. Before the trolley... did that.”

“Um.”

“I saw everything that happened” he explained. “That woman over there,” he pointed, “she was... talking on the phone, and she seemed scared, and she sort of leaned against the trolley and it rolled across the platform. I know that sounds like a coincidence, and it _could_ be, but...” he shrugged, unable to articulate exactly what was bothering him. “If someone was behind all this, and they could control reality in little ways, if they could control the Rift...”

“...Then they might well target us, since we’re trying to put a stop to this.”

“And that means the others are in danger too.”

* * *

Owen turned to the side, meeting Lois's gaze. “Is it just me” he asked her, “or does this place seem completely bloody normal?”

“...I didn’t want to be the one to say it” said Lois with a wry smile.

“Yeah, well” said Owen, looking around the dentist’s office waiting room, picking up a glossy magazine and letting it flop back down again, “there’s no weird purple smoke, far as I can see. No aliens, either.”

“Mmm” she said, looking over to the reception desk again; she’d already had a chat with the nice young receptionist with the glasses and freckles while Owen talked to some of the patients, waiting around bored on chairs. The receptionist looked up as Lois’s eyes passed over her, blushing slightly as she gave Lois a smile.

Owen’s elbow in her arm brought her back to the present. “Oi, if you’re quite done breaking hearts, let’s get out of here.” He laughed at Lois’s muttered protest, her face heating. “C’mon. I know opinions differ on this but there’ll be plenty of time to flirt when the world’s not ending.”

“Is the world really ending, then?” Lois asked tentatively, as they stepped out onto the street. Everything looked very normal, an ordinary cloudy Thursday afternoon.

“Oh, probably. Jack seems to think so anyway” said Owen, starting off down the street and stopping on the corner, peering up one last time at the dentist’s office they’d just left. "Are we sure this was the right address?”

“It was the one Tosh gave us, so...” Lois took the PDA out of her pocket, frowning as she peered at it. “Yeah, it seems right.” As they started down an alley that led to where they’d parked Owen’s car – Tosh and Gray had taken the SUV to the train station – Lois looked back the way they’d come.

The alley was darker than it should have been in the daylight, narrow and close with neglected-looking scaffolding lining one side, hung with plastic net in frayed dark green. But that wasn’t it; there was _something…_ something in the air, she thought. Not that she could quite put a name to it. It was like a vague strangeness, a sort of overlying not-quite-reality.

Lois thought suddenly of a story she’d heard once, about things not quite of this world pushing through into it. Beings from other places, slipping through to steal away poor unfortunates who strayed off the path. She shuddered; such things were much too real to her now not to take them seriously, and the endings of stories like that were never happy.

Owen sighed. “Well, worth checking.” He patted her arm, motioning for her to follow him back down the alley. “Let’s just–”

“ _Owen!_ ” Lois screamed, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him under the cover of the scaffolding as a car sped around the corner from the main road, barely big enough to fit past without clipping its wing mirrors; if they had been standing where they were a moment ago it would have crushed them, she knew.

Owen’s eyes were wide as he turned to her, his hand barely reaching for his gun as the two of them leaned back in the small space. “Fucking hell” he breathed. “That was close.”

“Y-yeah...”

He turned to look at her, frowning. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Lois pulled herself together with some effort. “Perfectly fine.”

Owen snorted. “Yeah, me neither.” And then, a little gentler, “...come on. Like I said, once we get back we can – _ah!_ ”

Owen lurched out of the way as there was a metallic clatter from high above, and a snapped rope, a heavy bucket filled with rubble and dust, and a steel pulley system clattered to the tarmac from above.

Right where Lois had been standing before Owen had tugged her out of the way. She breathed hard. “That was… that would’ve killed me...”

He grimaced. “Yeah. But it didn’t, so try not to think too much about it.” He leaned down to examine the fallen debris as Lois glanced nervously upwards and around the alley. “Rope looks frayed, not cut” he said. He frowned. “And by that we can assume… what the hell can we assume by that?”

“That it wasn’t necessarily someone trying to kill us?” said Lois. “Or if it was, they didn’t choose a very reliable method for it.”

“Actually, I think the _universe_ is trying to kill us” said Owen grimly, straightening up and dusting himself off. He began to walk, Lois keeping pace with him, both of them glancing all around.

“What does that mean, though?”

“No idea” Owen admitted, looking around suspiciously. “But this whole thing feels like a bloody set-up. And since I _really_ don’t want to die again, I suggest we get out of here right now. Sound good?”

“Yeah” she said, biting her lip. It was just then that she saw something move on her other side. “Owen!” she gasped, whirling around as the spike of adrenaline made her heart race.

“ _Shit_ , don’t do that to me” he said, turning around with his gun drawn and following her gaze into the shadows below the scaffolding. There didn’t seem to be anything there, but there was a large stack of pallets and some plastic bins piled haphazardly enough that anything could be lurking in between them.

They listened, back to back in the alleyway as the wind rose, whistling in the scaffolding. A moment later they heard an iron clang beside them and both whirled around to look, but barring a flash of movement there was nothing.

Lois was sweating under her coat, making the effort to hold her gun perfectly steady. She hadn’t ever got comfortable with the part of working for Torchwood that involved carrying and using a gun; on one hand she was glad of that – she hoped she never would – but in situations like this she knew very well that if she faltered she’d end up dead, or her friends would.

 _Split up,_ she saw Owen mouth silently. And despite her misgivings, Lois started to walk down the alley in the other direction, the two of them sweeping the street. She almost froze as there was another clatter on the other side of a skip from her. She pressed her back against the rusted steel side of it, peering around to see, and–

And then she heard the sound, a high, quiet whine so high-pitched it was nearly out of the range of hearing; if she hadn’t been holding her breath, listening intently for any sign of danger, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

A fraction of a second later she heard a yell and a few gunshots from behind her. She whirled around to the other end of the alley and saw Owen, lunging to the side as a weevil roared at him. Lois gritted her teeth as she saw another weevil drag itself up from the opened storm drain cover beside Owen, and then another and another.

They were surrounding Owen, as though compelled by some invisible force. They moved oddly, Lois thought. She’d seen plenty of weevils in her six months working for Torchwood – it was hard not to – but she’d never seen them act like this before; it was almost difficult to put her finger on exactly what was wrong, but there was _something_ … she put it from her mind to think about later. Now, she had to do her best to help Owen.

As she ran forward, one of the weevils caught Owen by the leg and he screamed as he scrambled away, firing at the biggest one, but that only made two more emerge from the sewer, trapping him under the scaffolding.

“Hey, over here!” Lois yelled in desperation, firing into the air. It was only the moment after they’d all turned to look at her that she realised she didn’t have a plan for what to do next. This wasn’t what they’d planned for, she thought desperately. This wasn’t what they thought they were up against, this wasn’t what she’d been sent to do, this wasn’t–

But it didn’t matter, she realised. There was no one else. And she’d always been good at improvising.

She holstered her gun and wiped her palms on her jeans, running along to the other side of the skip. She came to a halt beyond it and tested the strength of the scaffolding as she watched Owen drag himself back to his feet; there was a ladder a little way along that looked sturdy enough, but she hoped the whole thing wouldn’t give under her weight. “Owen!” she yelled, “We’ve got to climb!”

Hoping that at least weevils couldn’t understand English – and in some part of her mind, making a neat mental note to ask Ianto about that next time she saw him – and trying to breathe normally, she began to pull herself up, seeing Owen in her peripheral vision slip past the weevil that was after him, run up to her and grab the lower rung of the ladder.

Once she’d pulled herself up onto the wooden platform above she turned around again, holding out her hand to help him. But as he reached for it, she heard him scream, eyes going wide as something grabbed him from behind, pulling him to the ground.

* * *

“I think… it can’t actually _affect_ reality” said Tosh, pacing up and down as she thought about it.

“Yet” said Gray.

“Yet” she agreed. “Or at least, not in very significant way. Little shifts, carefully chosen...” she tailed off, thinking of their experience just now. “It can’t fully open the Rift; those fluctuations just now were probably a fake signal, but the ones from earlier were the natural consequence of... whatever’s happening with Ianto and the timelines, I'd guess.”

“The inversion collapse” said Gray, frowning.

“That’s the one.” Tosh grimaced. “God, I wish I knew more about this. You don’t, do you?”

Gray shrugged apologetically. “Not much more than you. My education was… cut short, a bit.”

“Of course. Sorry.” She sighed. “If we survive this, I’m sitting Jack down and I’m locking the doors and I’m _making_ him tell me everything he knows about spatio-temporal dynamics and time-travel best practices, since apparently it keeps being extremely relevant information.”

“Sorry I can’t help.”

“Ah, it’s okay. ...Well, actually it’s not, _none_ of this is okay, but it’s not your fault. Let’s get back to the problem at hand.” She looked all around them. “Seems like whatever’s doing this–”

“This _Syriath_ that Jack mentioned, maybe?”

“Yeah, quite possibly. Seems like she can control electromagnetic signals, sending us false information. I wonder if, if I analyse the transmission from earlier...” she clicked a few options on her PDA, and her eyes widened. “Huh, that’s…”

“What?”

“I didn’t notice before – I didn’t think to check – but the frequencies these fake signals were broadcast on… they’re not the usual civilian radio frequencies. Not those used by the mobile phone network either. But they _are_ familiar, now I’ve looked… they’re the natural resonant frequencies of the Rift itself.” Tosh frowned. “Syriath can’t open it, yet, but she can sort of... disrupt it a bit. Make it resonate and throw off radiation, to create any signal she wants. Syriath – or whoever it is – is basically using the Rift itself as a giant radio aerial, while still trapped underneath it. Coinciding with a real riftquake, it would be easy to make us think something big and dangerous came through, and lure us anywhere she wanted.”

Gray frowned. “Wouldn’t that... speed up the collapse? If the Rift is already unstable...”

Tosh grimaced, wishing once again that she’d asked Jack for more information. “Probably” she said. “But we don’t have any way of fixing that right now. What matters for the moment, is that we can’t trust any electronic signal we receive. That includes phones, the comms system, police scanners, broadcasts of any sort.”

Gray’s eyes met hers. “We need to warn the others” he said as they began to make for the exit.

“Warn them not to trust any message sent to them, yeah” said Tosh, almost laughing. “That’s a nice dilemma to give them.”

Gray thought for a moment, shouldering the harpoon gun. “Well, we’ll just need to go find them ourselves, won’t we?”

* * *

“ _Owen!_ ” screamed Lois, for a moment utterly at a loss as to what to do. She cast around desperately for something that could help her, then peered over the edge back down to Owen; he’d landed mostly on his feet but he was surrounded by at least seven weevils. He had his hands out, as though to try to stop them in their tracks by force of will alone. “What are you doing?” she yelled. She had her gun drawn, but she was worried if she tried to aim for one of the weevils she’d just hit Owen; they were all too close together down there, and they were closing in on him under the scaffolding. Pushing him away from the ladder and the supports.

“Trying something!” Owen yelled back. He gasped as a weevil roared in his face, advancing forward and giving him a swipe which just missed. “...Oh, okay. Nope! Definitely not King of the Weevils anymore!” she heard him shout, gasping for breath. “Fuck, never thought I’d miss being dead… okay, uh, plan B...”  
  
“What’s plan B?!?” Lois shouted down to him.

“Uh, I was hoping you’d come up with plan B!”

“...Um...” Her eyes were still darting around her; a little way off she could see another bucket and another pile of coiled rope, which looked to be attached to a pulley system far above. But it was a little way along the platform; she’d have to take her eyes – and her gun – off the weevils and Owen to run along there and get it. She glanced back down. “Run to your right!”

“Bit difficult!” Owen shouted back, snarling as a weevil tore at something in his hand. “Aw, bollocks, not my time lock...” she heard him fire his gun at the weevil that was trying to snatch it from its grasp; she saw a flicker of reflected light as a small metallic object fell to the ground. “Oi, that’s mine!” he yelled over the whining of an obviously injured weevil. “Fuck! Tosh made me that...”

Lois didn’t stay to hear anymore; she was already running along the platform, nearly tripping as she felt the whole structure being shaken by an impact from below, but just managing to keep her balance. The bucket, it turned out, was anchored by a pulley high above, coming down the front of the scaffolding and placed inside for safe-keeping. She pulled it out, swinging it forward above the ground and holding the rope, beginning to lower it to the ground. “Grab on!” she yelled to Owen, but as soon as she said it she realised he was too far away, and still surrounded.

Lois watched apprehensively, bucket and rope at the ready, with her gun out but still unable to get a clear shot.

And as she watched, she realised what it was that had been bothering her before, about the odd way the weevils moved; they were too coordinated, moving almost as one, as though they could anticipate each others’ actions.

 _Or_ , she thought, _as though something else could_. As though some outside force was manipulating them like puppets on strings.

Lois swallowed, the thought doing little to comfort her. Again she put it out of her mind to be considered later, as another idea came to her. “Owen!” she yelled again, testing the weight of the bucket and the strength of the rope. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. But then, she’d seen so many unbelievable things lately she’d lost count. She took a deep breath. “Duck!”

And with that, Lois grabbed both ends of the rope and took a running leap, swinging herself, the bucket, and the other trailing end out into the alley. She collided painfully with one of the weevils, knocking it off balance to crash sideways into another, both going down in a screaming tangle of limbs. Owen was staring at her, stunned, through the gap in the circle of weevils as she swung back. “Run!” she yelled, and to his credit he was quick to gather himself and comply, darting out into the alley before the weevils could extricate themselves.

Which was about when Lois’s back hit the pole of the scaffolding, the impact knocking the breath out of her. She felt her hands slip, yelling as she lost her grip and fell the last few feet to the ground, landing gracelessly – but relatively softly – in a pile of rubbish bags.

By then Owen had rushed up to meet her. “Bloody hell” he said, panting. “That was... quite a plan B.”

“I do try” said Lois with the ghost of a smile, as she took the hand he offered, letting him help her up and trying not to wince at the thought of all the bruises she’d have tomorrow; since there might not be a tomorrow, it was low on her list of priorities.

But Owen had already turned back to the weevils that had started to run towards them down the alley, still moving almost as one. “Well, shit” he said. “Guess which way the car is?”

Lois let out her breath, eyes traveling along the scaffolding she’d just come down from. The ladder she’d taken before was now too far away, but…

“Up the rope!” she said. “Quick!”

Owen glanced at her. “Can you climb a rope quicker than a weevil?”

“...Possibly” said Lois with a wince, thinking about school P.E. lessons.

Owen pursed his lips. “Yeah, me neither” he said. He grabbed one end. “Come on, grab the bucket. I’ll pull you up.”

“What?”

“That’s an order!”

And as soon as her hands had clasped the rope above the bucket, she found she was being pulled upwards, feet lifting off the ground. But too slowly; Owen was only a little taller than she was, and probably not much heavier, and she could see him struggling to get enough force on the rope.

And then she was wrenched upwards as the weevil collided with Owen, pulling the rope suddenly to the side. She lost her grip, half collapsing on the wooden platform as something seized her leg, but she kicked viciously at it, ignoring the burst of tearing pain in her calf as she hauled herself fully upwards onto the platform. Lois drew her gun, fired down at the weevil attacking Owen, once, twice – missed, striking off the tarmac, then hit the weevil’s arm, making it reel back. And again, though she didn’t see where the bullet went; there was another weevil there, moving in unsettling synchronicity and closing in on Owen.

Lois grabbed for the rope’s trailing end again. “Owen! Grab the bucket!” Her leg hurt, and she was vaguely aware that she was leaving bloody footprints behind her, but she pushed the pain away. “I’ll pull you up from here!”

He wasted no time, grasping the rope above the bucket. But as she started to haul him up, one of the weevils was already grabbing the trailing end of the rope, both it and Owen tangled up in it.

The weevil had slipped to the ground, losing its grip as the rope swung to and fro, but the motion made Owen’s hand slip, the rope tangled around his wrist; he shouted out in pain as she heard his wrist click horribly under the weight of his whole body and he let go. A moment later, to her horror, Lois saw that while spinning the rope had become tangled around his neck and torso instead, and he was falling, the rope tightening, and–

–And then there was the sound of something flying, something bright and sharp slicing through the air just below where Lois was standing. It cut clean through the rope, and Owen was suddenly falling the last few meters to the ground, the rope coiling down after him and the bucket falling with a clatter on the paving stones.

Lois stared, surprised; sticking out of the wood right in front of her was what looked for all the world like a harpoon of some kind, juddering side to side where it was embedded in the wooden plank.

Her confusion was interrupted by the sound of a car horn from up the alley. “Lois! Owen! Catch!”

She looked up to see the SUV, swerving to a stop beside the scaffolding; the sun-roof hatch on top was open and Gray’s head and shoulders were visible through it, wielding something that Lois recognised as a harpoon gun. Tosh was driving, but after the car stopped she’d jumped out and was throwing some object to Lois; she raised her hands and caught it instinctively, finding herself holding a canister of anti-weevil spray. She took a deep breath, staring over at the ladder as Tosh and Gray ran closer, Gray coming over to Owen’s still form on the ground and scooping him up like he weighed no more than a child, Tosh running forward and spraying the nearest weevil to Owen with a furious yell, so it reeled back in fear.

“Lois!” she heard Tosh yell. “We’ve got to go! I’m sorry, but you have to just run past it!”

She took a deep breath, seeing the weevil now barrelling towards her along the wooden planks between her and the ladder; she forced her hands steady on the spray canister, aiming at it with a yell as she feinted one way, then changed course and dodged it to the other side. Its claws caught her jacket sleeve but she wrenched it away, screaming with the adrenaline coursing through her.

And then she was past, nearly falling down the ladder in her haste. On the ground there was another weevil, but she dodged it too, spraying in its direction without looking as she ran for the car.

It was already moving when she got there, Tosh in the driver’s seat, Gray extending an arm from the open door of the backseat to pull her in beside him. The moment she was inside he pulled the door closed and she collapsed against him, letting out her breath as she saw Owen lying on the opposite seat, looking dazed and in pain but alive as they sped out of the alley.

“Are you okay?” came Tosh’s voice from the front, tense with apprehension.

Owen groaned, holding up his arm. “I think my wrist’s broken.” He winced, touching his side with his good hand. “Maybe a couple of ribs too. But I’ll live.”

“I’m fine” said Lois quickly.

“Whose is that blood then?” asked Gray, nodding at the floor.

Lois glanced down, gasping a little as she saw the blood soaking her trouser leg and dripping down from her calf; there was a lot more than she’d expected, and the sight of it brought a wave of dizziness over her. “Um” she said. “The weevil must’ve got me worse than I thought...”

“Let’s just get back” said Owen, though he was already leaning down with a wince to get the emergency medical kit under the seat. “I’ll get everyone – ow – patched up when we get there.”

“Yeah” said Tosh. “...This was a trap, wasn’t it? We’re all in agreement that this was a trap?”

“Yeah” breathed Lois.

“Seems like it” said Gray.

“Oh, abso-fucking-lutely” said Owen. He sighed, pulling out a length of bandage. “But hey, who knows. Maybe by the time we get there Ianto’ll have figured out what the bloody fuck is going on. Left to his own devices and all.”

“Here’s hoping” said Tosh grimly, as she drove them through the city streets towards the bay and the afternoon darkened towards evening. “But for the moment, we don’t trust anything we hear. Okay?”

“Seems like a good idea to me.”

* * *

Ianto was just down the road from the address on the flier when his earpiece clicked to life. He jumped as Gwen’s voice sounded in his ear; he’d all but forgotten he had the earpiece in, let alone switched on.

“Ianto!” Gwen was saying. “Where the hell are you? You were supposed to be staying put!”

“Um” he said. “Listen Gwen, about that. Jack might be in danger. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid...”

“...That was the second thing I was going to ask you about, actually” said Gwen, with an audible sigh. “Well, seeing as you’re out anyway, I don’t know how much more harm it can do… see if you can find him, stop whatever he’s doing. I’ll be along soon to pick you up, with the others.”

“Oh” he said. “Did you... did you find Rhys? Did the others sort out the things that came through the Rift?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all fine” she said. “We’re all safe, and together, and we’re on our way to you. But in the meantime we need you to find Jack, okay?”

“...Yeah” he said, drawing to a stop in front of the pub, warm light spilling out of the windows and glass-paneled doors onto the street. “I’m going to try, Gwen.”

“Good” she said. “I’ll be there really soon, okay? I promise. As soon as I can make it.”

“Thanks, Gwen. See you.”

“Bye for now, Ianto.”

“Bye.”

And with that Ianto clicked the connection closed, squared his shoulders, and went inside the pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...From the bottom of my heart I apologise for the longer-than-average delay since the previous chapter! 12 whole days! The reason was that there were aspects of this chapter that I wanted to rework from my original plan, but also, writer's block struck just while I was trying to do it. So sorry about that!  
> Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait; next time we finally get to see what Jack's been up to while all this is going on. ...Maybe. You'll have to wait and see ;)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd encourage you to look at a [transcript](https://sariagray.livejournal.com/81114.html) or [plot summary](https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/The_House_of_the_Dead_\(audio_story\)) of the House of the Dead for this one, or listen [here (on the internet archive)](https://archive.org/details/3TheHouseOfTheDead130711) or [here (on BBC iPlayer, for those in the UK)](https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b012fqsz).

“There you go then” said Owen, tying off the bandage around Gray’s head – the movement awkward as he was working mostly one-handed – and patting him on the shoulder. “But no more getting your head bashed about, okay? At least not for a few weeks anyway.”

“I’ll try” said Gray with a faint smile. “No promises.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “God, you’re just as bad as Jack is. But at least he heals quickly...”

“What about you?”

“Fine” said Owen, raising his wrapped up wrist. “It’s just about usable, and a nice dose of alien painkillers is helping with that and the ribs.” He looked over to the other side of the table. “Tosh, any leads?”

Tosh shook her head, frustrated. “I’ve been looking at CCTV all over the city, but so far nothing. I’m also having trouble connecting to the Rift monitor in the Hub; if we extrapolate from the last readings we have, they indicate that the Rift is growing more and more unstable, but I’ve got no way of tracking the places where it opens directly” her fingers tapped impatiently against the wooden surface of the table as she spoke. “We’re completely in the dark.”

Owen frowned, reaching over the table with his good arm to give Tosh’s fingers a squeeze. “What about the Rift manipulator? No chance you can use that to... I dunno. Stabilise the Rift, at least? Then we can deal with this Syriath bitch after.”

Tosh laughed bitterly. “If only.” She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “The Rift manipulator is specifically designed so it _can’t_ be operated remotely; it’s got physical controls, a key that's kept in the Hub. Well. You know how it works” she said, looking a little sheepish as Owen’s mouth turned down at the corner. She shook her head. “It’s a security feature, meant to prevent people outside Torchwood from hacking in. But it doesn’t do us much good when most of the thing’s still buried under tonnes of rubble.”

Owen bit his lip. “Alright” he said, trying to stay calm. “Any progress on tracking down Jack and Gwen?”

She shook her head. “Same problem. I’ve tried tracking their phones, but something’s interfering with the signal. Even if I could get a location, I wouldn’t trust it; it would probably just be another trap.”

“And Ianto?” said Owen. He looked all around. “S’pose it’s too much to ask that Lois’ll find him hanging around upstairs...”

“You’re right, unfortunately” said Lois, appearing in that moment at the door to the window room. She folded her hands in front of her, looking rather regretful. “I’ve checked the archives, the cellar, the kitchen, the med bay, every bathroom, every storage room, Jack’s office, and Myfanwy’s loft. Ianto isn’t anywhere in the building. So far as I can tell.”

Owen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. That’s just what we bloody need, on top of everything else.”

Lois clasped her hands nervously. “I’m sorry” she said. “I can check again...”

“Lois, it’s _fine_ ” said Tosh firmly, motioning for her to come sit at the table with them.

Lois walked over with only a slight limp – belying the size of the weevil bite on her calf that Owen had cleaned, stitched and dressed only half an hour ago – and perched nervously on the edge of the seat.

Tosh turned back to her laptop with a sigh. “I guess it was too much to hope for that Ianto would still be here anyway...”

“That stubborn bastard” said Owen, though even he had to admit there was more exasperated concern behind it than real anger. “I bet he’ll have gone after Jack. Wherever the hell _he’s_ got to...”

“That’s good” said Tosh. “That’s something to go on, at least.”

“Have we actually _tried_ tracking Jack’s phone?” said Owen, wearily. “I mean, I know the signal might be ballsed up by Syriath, but...”

“Jack left it here” said Lois. “I found it on his desk while I was looking for Ianto. His earpiece too.”

“And I already tried to track Ianto and Gwen” said Tosh.

Owen sighed. “Well, that’s that then, I guess. Anyone else got a clever idea?”

Tosh tapped her fingers on the desk. “...These false signals it’s broadcasting… they’re just radio waves, transmitted on the Rift frequencies” she said. Owen recognised her thinking aloud voice, and felt a flare of hope.

“Yeah, and that means...” he prompted.

“And that means…” her face lit up. “Oh! Oh my god, that’s so simple, I can just...” she typed furiously for a moment, attention fully on her screen.

“Um, what are you doing?” ventured Lois.

“Something smart” said Owen, smiling proudly. “You’ll see.”

Tosh grinned, pushing her laptop away. “Setting up a botnet, to spread existing malware I have on file and take command of every transmitting device in the city” she said. She frowned. “Actually can you still call it malware if it’s helping to save the world? Yes, probably, but it’s definitely a grey area...” she mused, before shaking herself, “...but anyway. I think, maybe, if I then tell every single one of them – every phone mast, every radio tower, every home wifi router, everything – to broadcast random noise all at once on the same bandwidth as the Rift frequencies, then we can completely drown the signal in those bands. Then, while Syriath figures it out and shifts to using other Rift resonance modes to transmit on, then we can take the time to track Gwen and Ianto’s phones. Maybe we can even get the Rift monitor going again.” Tosh shrugged. “Even if not, it should buy us enough time to get a location for the others, at least.”

“Oh” said Lois, a little taken aback. “That _is_ smart.”

“Will it work?” said Gray apprehensively.

“Let’s see.” Tosh smiled, pressing the enter key on her laptop. “Okay. Botnet online now. And we’re collecting data…” she paused, all three of the others leaning over her shoulders to watch the output in her terminal window scroll, “and we’re connecting… and… yes! We’ve got transmission!”

“...Blimey” said Owen, hand squeezing Tosh’s shoulder. “...Did you just make a DDoS attack on an demonic entity from before the dawn of time?”

“Not quite, but… you know, close enough.”

“…That’s _really_ fucking hot, Tosh.”

Tosh patted his hand on her shoulder with a smirk. “I know. Hold that thought for later, if we don’t die.”

“Fair” said Owen, reluctantly preparing to spring into action again. “How much time’ve we got?”

“Should have at least five minutes interference-free, going roughly off the Rift’s characteristic reversion timescales.”

“Well, let’s track down the others first” said Gray. “Gwen and Ianto could be in danger.”

“Working on it...” she sat back, folding her arms as the progress bar ticked from twenty-one to twenty-two percent. “It’s slow” she said, tapping impatiently again. “I hope we can – oh, there we go” she said as the map came up, traces narrowing down in two glowing circles. “Huh. Ianto and Gwen are apparently in the same place as each other? Somewhere in town...”

“What’s there?” said Owen. “Can you get a map reference?”

Tosh frowned. “Apparently it’s a pub...”

“Not like them to go for a pint while working. Gwen’s pregnant and Ianto has to be dragged kicking and screaming into doing anything remotely fun if it means bunking off work.” He made a face, thinking of the several occasions he’d walked in on Ianto and Jack in various compromising positions. “With… some notable exceptions.”

“Which means this place is part of all this.”

“What if that’s where Jack is too?” said Lois.

“Yeah, I think that’s likely” said Tosh. “Okay, I’ve got the address down. Before we run out of time I’m going to take a look at the Rift monitor at the Hub site, and see if – oh.”

“Oh?”

“Look” said Tosh. “That pattern of Rift activity was being masked by the false signal, but...”

Owen gave a low whistle. He’d looked at Rift energy maps before, of course he had. But this one was unlike any he’d seen. It looked, he thought, like a weather map with a hurricane blowing through; a vast spiral lit up in warning red over the city. Over half of South Wales, it looked like. “What’s at the centre?” he asked, already suspecting he knew the answer as the words left his mouth.

Tosh almost laughed. “Guess where the trace puts Gwen and Ianto.”

Owen rolled his eyes as she overlaid the two location dots. “Bloody typical.” He looked around at Gray and Lois as Tosh pushed herself back from the table, staring warily at her laptop. “Well, I guess we know where we’re going, then… yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Lois” said Owen. “How’s the leg?”

She winced, but drew herself up taller. “Much better after you cleaned up the wound. I can walk on it. And the painkillers helped.”

“Good” said Owen. “Get the SUV ready. Oh, and bring anything from the archives you think might be useful. Gray, go to the weapons storeroom. We need to be able to defend ourselves, so grab whatever you can carry.”

“What, though?” he asked, though he was already moving. “What are we fighting against?”

“No bloody idea” said Owen, “just bring whatever’s been salvaged and will fit in the car.” As Gray hurried after Lois with a nod, Owen turned to Tosh, who was hovering apprehensively over her laptop. He came up to her, turning her head so she was looking at him. “You know, I wasn’t lying. That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah” she said, but she still sounded uncertain, fearful.

“It _was_ ” he insisted, wrapping his arms around her quickly before wincing at the pain in his wrist and his side. “And we’re going to help them, yeah? We’ve done it before, and we can do it again.”

She looked up at him, a real smile on her face now as she hugged him back loosely, mindful of his broken ribs. “Yeah.”

“Excellent” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Glad you agree. Now, let’s go out there and save the bloody world.”

* * *

Ianto stepped inside the pub, the humid indoor warmth enveloping him as the sounds of the street faded. He could smell beer and wood and leather, the scent of smoke ever-present in the background despite the smoking ban a few years ago; in older places like this it had crept into the very walls and carpets, and there was no getting it out.

(His father had always reeked of stale smoke and booze when he came home late at night. Ianto had learned to stay in his room and avoid him, recognising his footsteps in the hallway.)

He frowned, shaking his head a little to rid himself of unwelcome memories.

He looked around for Jack, on the off-chance he might be standing at the bar and Ianto could just grab him by the arm and bring him home. But of course, it wouldn’t be as simple as that.

“Looking for something, mate?”

Ianto started at the voice of the bartender. “Um” he said, distracted and trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order, “a man...”

“Ooh. You’ll want the place down the road, ‘m afraid. Big rainbow flag outside. Now I don’t judge or nothing mind, it’s all good and to each their own you know, but–”

“Oh! No...” broke in Ianto. “...I mean, uh, yes, but...” he sighed. “A particular man. Big blue air force coat, braces, American accent, loud. Um, very, very handsome...” _and being bloody needlessly enigmatic right now_ , he didn’t add.

“Oh, _that_ bloke!” said the bartender, with a roll of his eyes. He hooked a thumb in the rough direction of the door, where Ianto had passed a staircase on the way in. “Upstairs. Mind you be quiet though, it’s already begun.”

Ianto was about to ask what, but the man had already turned away to serve someone else; he was getting a lot of that today it seemed.

Still, he realised as he clasped his hand around the folded leaflet in his pocket, he didn’t need to ask. There was something going on in this place, something to do with all of this.

He took out the leaflet for the House of the Dead and unfolded it, smoothing it out and reading the rest of text, in slightly smaller print below the title.

_Come see the gifted medium Evadne Wintergreen call the spirits of the dead_ _from beyond the veil!_ _Enter_ _if you dare!_

Ianto frowned, wondering what he was to make of this. This, he was sure, had something to do with what was happening here, with Jack and the Rift. With him, and that other world where he was dead. He thought at the very least, calling the spirits of the dead – or whatever this medium was claiming were the spirits of the dead – probably wouldn’t help matters.

He folded the leaflet and put it back in his pocket. Something was going to happen here, he knew. He could almost feel it in the air; an electric crackle, like a storm was about to break. But not in the atmosphere – it felt as though it was in the very fabric of reality itself, a spreading ripple before a great wave.

And Ianto knew one thing at least: whatever it was, however dangerous, he wasn’t going to let Jack face it alone.

Balling his hands into fists, he headed towards the stairs, stepping up and grasping the old wooden newel post, polished smooth by time and many hands.

As he did he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, sudden and blinding.

And with no more warning than that, the world collapsed in on itself around him.

* * *

Gwen paced in the dark cellar. Though there was no signal she’d been using her phone screen as a dim light, but now the battery was running low. She peered at the small screen. Twelve percent. She frowned; she’d have to do something with the time she had left. Something was better than nothing, and she was sure the others needed her.

She looked around her in the dim blue-white light, sitting down on a storage crate as she tried to think. She’d already tried yelling as loud as she could, and she’d tried phoning for help – still no signal – and after that she’d tried to pick the lock, but the door seemed to be physically jammed somehow, too tight in its frame. She’d tried shooting the lock too, but it seemed that really did only work in movies. She’d tried kicking it, and shouldering it, and beating it with her fists. She’d even tried hefting one of the barrels up the stairs to use as a battering ram, but the ones that were small enough for her to lift were too small to make much of an impact on the heavy door.

Gwen leaned forward where she sat, face buried in her arms which were folded over the swell of her belly. She felt the baby kick just then, and smiled sadly in the dark, rubbing her hand over her stomach in the most comforting way she could. “Just you and me for now, sweetheart” she said. “Don’t worry though. Your mum’s going to work this out.” Another kick. “I promise” she said. “We’re going to get out of here, and find your uncles and aunts and make sure they’re okay, and help them if we can. Then we’re going home to your dad when it’s all done. Okay?” She took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair, letting her own words calm herself down. “Okay. Okay, yes, we’re doing that.”

Still, it was easier said than done, Gwen thought as she pulled herself to her feet, leaning on the crate. She hadn’t realised quite how tired she was when she’d sat down; this had already been a long day. She leaned sideways against the rough wood, letting it take a little of her weight again; she was at least standing up now, which was a good first step. The crate shifted a little to the side, forcing her to throw her arms out to keep her balance.

But as she stumbled against it, she felt the ground change under her feet as her trainers made contact with metal. With an in-drawn breath she pulled out her phone again, willing to use up some of her precious light to investigate, and saw–

 _Yes!_ Peeking out from under the crate she could see the very edge of a round cast-iron manhole cover, not unlike the one in Jack’s old office in the Hub. Encouraged, she threw her shoulder against the crate and shoved it aside, exposing the whole thing. The cover had two handles set into the thickness of it, so it lay flush with the flagstones on either side. She leaned down to grasp them in her hands, with difficulty. “See?” she said into the darkness. “See, I told you there was a way out of here. And if we’re lucky...” she grunted as she hefted the metal cover. It was even heavier than it looked, and partially rusted shut, but eventually she’d shifted it an inch or two. A cold, damp, pungent smell drifted out at her, but a blessedly familiar one. “Looks like it leads into the sewers!” she gasped, filled with relief as she held up her phone, peering down into the blackness. Below, she could see a cast iron ladder stretching down to what looked like one of the myriad of tunnels and access shafts below the city. She straightened up again, phone between her teeth; she’d have to use her light for this, gambling on being able to find some more by the time the power ran out. “Sorry, sweetheart” she said, half talking to her child still, “I wanted to take you to nicer places than this. The park, ice cream when you’re old enough for it, maybe on the beach... but that’s Torchwood, I’m afraid.”

And with that, Gwen began to climb down the ladder into the chilly darkness below.

* * *

When Ianto’s vision cleared, he had a moment of panic where he thought he’d gone blind. Then he realised it was just dark, and he was kneeling down with his eyes to the ground.

Ground… that was an interesting thought. Because, he realised, whatever he was kneeling on was certainly not the worn wooden boards of the pub he’d left behind. In fact, he thought as he ran his flat palms over it, he hadn’t really the words to describe exactly _what_ it was.

Instead he raised his head, frowning and blinking as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. His head still hurt but he felt somewhat clearer here, as though a thin cloth he hadn’t realised was there had been pulled aside from his entire awareness, every sense and then some. At the same time, he realised that actually it wasn’t entirely dark here; rather it was a dim grey, with visible light and shade. He raised his hands up in front of him and found he could see them as clearly as though he were in a brightly-lit room now that his senses had adjusted, although he couldn’t see light actually coming from anywhere.

Trying to ignore the persistent strangeness of that, Ianto looked around.

–And saw a figure, just a little way to his left. He started in alarm for a moment; surely they hadn’t been there a moment ago. He squinted at them, and as he did the outline grew sharper.

And then he recoiled back a bit, as the figure sprang into focus and he recognised it immediately.

It was himself.

He stared, transfixed, at himself in profile. Dressed in a suit and tie – different from the ones he was wearing today – and facing half away from him, perfectly still as though he was frozen in place. Gingerly, Ianto waved a hand in front of his other self’s face and saw not a flicker of movement, not even a reflexive twitch.

That was odd, Ianto was thinking, when he saw another figure beyond his other self. His eyes widened as he saw this one was him too; different clothes again, his hair a little longer and ragged in the back, as though it was in need of a trim. And then another, beyond him; a long, twisted scar down one side of his face, flesh all pink and uneven as though it had only just healed, face half sunken in with it.

He found himself raising his hand to touch the small line of scar tissue high on his cheekbone, uncomfortable. He turned away from the versions of himself – and there were more beyond, he saw, stretched out in an endless line to where his vision failed in this strange place – and looked in the other direction. But it continued there, too, an endless line of versions of him. He smiled slightly; that one had a lovebite just visible above the collar of his shirt. There was another, too, wearing a tuxedo with a flower pinned to his buttonhole. The smile on his face faltered though as he saw one dressed in a hospital gown, whose arm seemed to have been replaced with some sort of prosthetic. It was distinctly alien-looking, with large pins and implants jutting painfully from the bare skin, the flesh partially healed around it. One of his eyes had been replaced too, with flat dark glass set into metal.

He shuddered.

But before he could speculate, he felt the breath knocked out of him; one of the spaces in the line was empty.

He looked all around; the lines of versions of himself were all around him now. Their positions were almost geometric, like reflections in a hall of mirrors, stretching on in endless iterations like a kaleidoscope. Here and there, one would be missing, an empty place where he should be.

And then he saw a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. It drew his gaze because every other version of him was entirely still, not breathing; unsettlingly still, as though they were something more like three-dimensional photographs or moments caught in time, rather than living, breathing people.

Except for one.

Well, two, he supposed, if you counted himself. But he squinted at that other version of him a little way off. He watched his other self turn, clutching his head in his hands, eyes wide and full of fear. He looked like he was in pain, Ianto thought with a pang, watching his other self tremble and swallow a sob. But there was something else wrong too, though it took him a moment to place it.

When he did he frowned, unable to make sense of what he saw. The other version of him was not quite solid; or he was when you looked directly at him, but out of the corner of the eye he seemed to shift and flicker, like he was only halfway present.

Cautiously, Ianto walked torwards this version of him, careful to avoid the others; for some reason he didn’t want to touch them if he could help it. They were too still.

As he approached he watched himself press his eyes closed, mouth opening in a silent scream of pain, flickering in and out of focus now. And Ianto could feel his own head begin to fill with it again too. On impulse, he reached out, hand hovering above the shoulder of this – what? A vision? Whatever his other self was, he didn’t seem to be aware of him.

Ianto paused as he noticed a detail; this other version had a cut on his cheek, exactly where he himself had a healed-over scar. Not bleeding, but scabbed over, as though it was perhaps a few days old.

He hesitated for a moment. But the pain intensified, as though it would crack his skull like an egg. He bit back a cry of his own, feeling the impulse to lay his hand on his other self’s arm, to bring him some small comfort. He hesitated only a moment longer before letting his hand come slowly down onto the shoulder of his other version’s jacket.

The moment his fingers made contact he was wrenched out of the world once more.

When his vision cleared and his head stopped reeling, he saw to his surprise that he was in the same place he’d left.

Or not quite, he realised. He’d been on the stairs before; now he was in the front room of the pub again, but the bartender was gone.

Instead he saw his other self standing there, and in front of him was Jack.

And as soon as he saw Jack, Ianto knew where he was immediately; this Jack was unmistakably the one he’d seen earlier, when he’d slipped into that other world. But that meant–

 _The House of the Dead_. He understood now, at least a little better than before.

But if his other self was dead, then how was he… here?

He stared at his other self, catching him flicker as he turned his head. The expression on his face as he looked back into Jack’s eyes was indescribable, desperate, hopeless, hopeful. Looking at Jack as though he never wanted to look away.

And Jack. His voice was ragged, deeply weary as they spoke, both of them looking down at some small object held between other-Ianto’s hands. Ianto craned to look and saw that it was a small tin box, no bigger than an old-fashioned cigarette case. He did his best to peer inside as his other self flicked the lid open, and frowned as he saw–

“It’s just pebbles. Coal.” The other version had taken the words out of Ianto’s mouth, perfectly mirroring the confusion he felt in his tone. But then, Ianto thought, he probably shouldn’t be surprised by that.

“Rocks from the hills, coal from the cellar, and a tiny detonator. Just enough to make a lot of dust” Jack explained.

“Dust?”

Jack nodded. “All of Wales is a giant battery of stored rift energy. Cardiff Council think it’s radon, but something far richer is held in these stones. It’s harmless, unless you release it as one world falls into another.”

Ianto felt a chill go down his spine; he turned, seeing his other self flicker in his peripheral vision, and wondered if he’d just experienced the same flutter of foreboding.

He saw that the other him was raising an eyebrow at Jack. “ _That’s_ how you’re going to destroy Syriath.”

 _Syriath..._ in all of this, Ianto had almost forgotten that part. Maybe the dead coming back was to do with that, he thought. Maybe whatever this entity was, she was using their emotions – their connections – against them, bringing back those that had been lost to – _to what_? He couldn’t make any more sense of it than that.

“The moment she reaches this world, I’m going to detonate the energy stored in that package” said Jack. “It’ll wipe out Syriath and seal the rift forever. In these stones horizons sing.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the familiar words, inscribed above their home for so long, that made him understand, or if it was the way Jack's voice sounded as he said them. But Ianto was certain his other self realised at the same moment as he did.

“Seal the rift?” his voice sounded uncertain, and to Ianto’s eyes he seemed to flicker a little in his tangibility.

“Its time has come” said Jack, and the way he said the words made Ianto certain he wasn’t just talking about the Rift.

But he knew he couldn’t let his heart break for this world – for Jack, for himself. He couldn’t let it distract him: now he knew the truth, he needed to get back to his own world above all else. Jack needed him – _his_ Jack, the one who still had some hope. And if there was anyone that could keep him from doing something reckless, then maybe, just maybe–

And then he heard another voice; one he’d hoped he’d never hear again.

“Oh, hello. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Ianto darted his gaze over to the far side of the room at the same time as his other self did.

And there was his father.

Ianto gritted his teeth; this, _this_ was too much. This wasn’t real, he told himself. _This couldn’t be real, this had to be_ … he looked at the other version of himself, whose face showed a mixture of tiredness, frustration, resignation… but not surprise. Then he looked back at his father.

He didn’t look like he did at the end. Nor did he look like he did that summer he’d followed Ianto to London before he had first joined Torchwood, when he was working in the coffee shop. No, he looked like he had when Ianto and Rhiannon had been in school. When Ianto would dread coming home even though the boys from his class would follow him down the road, yelling things after him if he was lucky; it would be thrown things if he wasn’t, or punches, legs stuck out to trip him just to watch him fall. And even that had been better than–

“Not now, dad.”

He winced at the way his other self’s shoulders had stiffened, growing tense. He wasn’t even from this world, and he understood completely, bracing for a confrontation without fully realising it.

But his father ignored his other self, and turned to Jack. “I’ve only popped in for a word. You must be Jack. I’ve heard so much about you. But not from Ianto; he was always too busy.”

Jack’s lip curled, derisive. “From Syriath? I wouldn’t trust her.”

“No, I’ve heard about you from those people you’ve sent to the land of the dead. All the people you’ve killed.”

Jack’s face changed at that, turning guarded. “That’s enough.”

Ianto agreed; his heart was aching, and he was suddenly filled with a furious anger on top of it. Whatever was happening, whatever was doing this, it was just playing on his emotions by bringing back his father. And that part he could maybe tolerate, but he wouldn’t let it hurt Jack the way it clearly was.

With the anger came clarity; he had to get back to his own world. He had to find his own Jack, tell him it was okay. He had to save him from what Ianto desperately feared he’d do.

And with that it became almost easy; easy to feel for the edges of the world, the same way he’d come here. Easy to let the pain and the dizziness wash over him, enveloping him and dragging him momentarily back into that space where every version of him was reflected infinity-fold, in every direction. Had he known he could do this? No, but also yes, he thought as he let himself be pulled back into his own world. It was rather easy, now he thought about it.

He opened his eyes, and he was standing on the stairs again, in what he knew was his own world. He blinked a few times, willing the pain away, and grabbed the banister, pulling himself up. The bartender had said Jack was upstairs, and Ianto was going to find him. Before he did anything stupid.

But at that moment the doors in front of him flew open, a woman running out, clattering past him down the stairs. As Ianto got out the way to let her pass, he saw Jack come to the top of the stairs. “Mrs. Wintergreen!” Jack yelled after the woman. “ _Don’t–_ ” Jack broke off as he caught sight of him, eyes going wide. “...Wait. Ianto?”

“Hello, Jack.”

“Ianto...” Jack walked down the stairs towards him, looking genuinely afraid. “Ianto, you shouldn’t be here...”

“I gathered, since you drugged me and then went off without telling me where you were going.”

Jack winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. I understand why you’re angry, but I couldn’t have you following me here. ...Only, I thought this wouldn’t take so long, I thought it would be done by the time you woke up...”

“ _Done?_ ” said Ianto. “ _What_ would be done, Jack? No, don’t answer that.” He pointed at the door, hoping Jack would confirm that his fears were for nothing. Surely it can’t have been real, it couldn’t be the same... “Start by explaining. What happened in there?”

“Séance gone wrong” said Jack. “All the guests ran out, and the one you last saw was Mrs. Wintergreen, the medium. Probably best for everyone actually, to get as far away from this place as possible. If I don’t stop it, this whole place is gonna fall into the Rift.”

Ianto felt a chill run through him. “I can–”

But he broke off. For at that moment the dizziness came back, sweeping him away like a riptide, and Ianto felt himself being pulled out of the world again. It felt frighteningly easy this time, almost familiar as he found himself in that in-between place where he could see every version of himself. It was almost too natural to find the one he was looking for, that other version of himself whose flickering now looked almost pained, glitchy and irregular. Ianto caught sight of him clutching at his head as though in agony and grief, before he was pulled through and into that other world again.

Once more, he was standing in front of Jack. That other Jack, that was. He released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when he saw that his father was at least gone. But the relief was only momentary as he saw Jack was holding the box again, the one he’d seen before. Holding it like it was precious, like it terrified him. Ianto knew enough to understand that it was both.

And there was the other version of him, standing before Jack too. He looked upset, furious even. “You’re not planning on coming back, are you?”

“No” Jack admitted. “It’ll be a pretty big bang.”

The other version of him seemed doubtful. “You can’t die.”

“Next best thing – eternal oblivion, lost in the space between worlds forever. And come on! It’s quite a way to go. I think I’ve lived long enough. I’ve seen you once more. What else is there?”

Cold horror sluiced through Ianto’s chest as he listened to Jack’s words. His other self was speaking, saying something to Jack, but Ianto wasn’t listening anymore; he was certain of what he needed to do now, certain of the need to prevent this from happening. He felt a stab of guilt as he looked at the other version of him; this was _him_ , after all. Dead or alive they had the same mind. And Ianto thought he could guess what he was planning; it was what _he_ would do, after all.

He was aware of tears on his face, drying cold as he stared at Jack looking at the dead shade of him with such broken-hearted _longing_.

He knew he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t help this world, he couldn’t help his other self. But maybe, just maybe, his other self could help Jack to survive.

With that scant comfort, Ianto let himself feel the way back to his own world, this sorry reality collapsing around him to be replaced by wood under his hands as he leaned on the now-empty bar, clinging to the counter to stay upright as the dizziness cleared.

“What the hell happened just now?” Jack demanded, throwing the doors open and running into the room and to his side. “You disappeared!”

“Oh…” Ianto forced himself to relax, gently pushing aside Jack’s attempts to steady him. “Is that what it looked like?” he mumbled, distracted. And then he remembered what he’d come back for, looking Jack up and down. Seeing what he dreaded, he darted his hand to Jack’s inner coat pocket and pulled out the tin box. Jack didn’t try to resist, but a small frown line did appear between his eyes as Ianto brandished it accusingly at him. “ _What_ were you going to do with this?”

Jack’s eyes widened. “It’s nothing” he said. “It’s just a–”

“Don’t _fucking_ lie to me, Jack! I’m sick to death of it.” He glared. “Because I know exactly what this is, and what you were going to do with it. You were prepared to risk yourself–”

“Ianto...”

“–And I can’t believe you’d do that, Jack! You’ve got to live! You’ve got to… you always live...”

Jack sighed. “Look Ianto, I knew you’d react like this...”

“Oh, so that’s why you bloody drugged me then, is it.”

“No... I mean... well I guess, but...” he sighed, looking away. “Listen, it was my plan B, okay? ...Actually more like plan E or F.”

“Really.”

“I promise, and you have to believe me. Before I resorted to using this, I was going to try to make a deal with Syriath, to undo your connection to the Rift and make her leave this world alone.”

“Oh? And how exactly were you going to do that?”

Jack laughed darkly. “Very carefully. But I can be persuasive when I like...”

“Don’t I bloody know it.”

“...And look!” Jack pulled out something that was attached to his belt at the back. Ianto recognised the dimensional tether, looped around like a coil of rope. “I brought backup, to stop me accidentally falling into the Rift.” He put it on the table beside them, inching forwards into Ianto’s space. “I promise, I planned everything so that I could come back to you right after.”

Ianto frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “I wish I could believe you.”

“Ianto...” Jack tried to approach again and Ianto turned further away; he knew he was being childish, that this was so much bigger than the two of them. But in this moment, he found he didn’t care. Jack sighed, changing tack. “Wait. How do you _know_ about this?” he indicated the box. “How do you know what it does? I didn’t tell you.”

“Long story” said Ianto, “I’ll explain later–”

But Jack took hold of his upper arms, turning him and holding him in place as he tried to walk away, staring into his eyes with sudden urgency. “No, Ianto. Tell me how you know that… you _shouldn’t_ know that.” Jack faltered at Ianto’s impassive expression. “...Please. It could be important.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, trying to think how to explain it. “I sort of… went to a different version of reality?” he said. “As far as I can tell it was the same one as before, where I’d died, and you…” he gestured.

“Oh. One of the visions you talked about?”

“It didn’t feel quite the same” said Ianto. “There was this… space, an endless space filled with different versions of me, and… one of them, I think he was dead, or a ghost, or… or something. But he seemed afraid, and I touched his shoulder and I got… pulled through.” He shrugged, a little annoyed at his own inability to describe the experience properly. “You said I disappeared before. That’s where I went.”

Jack was looking as though Ianto had struck him. “You _went to another reality_? As in, physically?”

“Um. I think so?”

“Ianto, that’s….”

“Mad, yeah I know.” He shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate on what was important. “But as soon as I learned what you were planning I came back. I couldn’t let you do it, not here. Not _my_ you.”

“No, you don’t understand. That shouldn’t be possible...”

“Well apparently it is.” Ianto frowned. “I still can’t believe you would’ve done that. Thrown yourself through the Rift, into the void between worlds forever.”

“Ianto… that version of me. You have to understand, he’s not _me_.”

“He was” insisted Ianto. “I can tell by the way you looked when I told you.”

Jack sighed. “He had nothing left to lose.”

“There’s _always_ something left to lose!” Ianto shouted, feeling anger rise again, before relenting at the sight of Jack’s wince of pain. “You were the one that taught me that.”

“I know” said Jack. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking suddenly very old and weary. “What you have to understand is, that version of me you saw... that’s me, yeah. But that's me without you. In this reality, I have you. I’m not like that.”

“But one day...” Ianto couldn’t bear it. “One day you won’t have me any longer. Will you become like that then? I need to know you won’t hurt yourself when I’m gone, Jack. Please.”

“Ianto… I can’t promise you that. I can’t speak for every version of me. But I can speak for this one. I’d never do that to you. I love you.”

Ianto sighed. “And I love you, Jack. But still.”

Jack opened his mouth and closed it again, his face filled with immeasurable pain; Ianto was sure Jack was picturing that other world, the one where Ianto was gone and Jack was on his own, desperate and destructive. A moment later though, he collected himself. “...How did you get back?” Jack said.

Ianto blinked. “What?”

“The other world. How did you get back from there to here?”

He frowned. “I just sort of...” he gestured, again unsure of how to describe it. “Retraced my steps? I could sort of... feel my way back. It was really easy actually.”

Jack stared at him, before gritting his teeth. “The walls of the worlds are growing thin, and you’re on the edge of them. Or maybe this world is colliding with another. Either way, it means the inversion collapse is speeding up.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault” said Jack, shaking his head and beginning to pace. “You’re the centre of all this; if anything, your ability to slip between worlds is a good indicator of how much time we’ve got left.”

Ianto bit his lip. “And how much is that?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

Ianto nodded. “Jack” he began. “What I saw, in that other world...”

“Don’t trust it” said Jack immediately. “It’s not here. Whatever that version of me said, it’s not _me_. Not _your_ me, anyway.”

“No! No” said Ianto. “I just meant… I couldn’t do anything to save him, or that version of me. That me was _dead_. I’m sorry...”

Jack surprised him by pausing in his pacing, to pull Ianto into a hug. “I understand” he said into Ianto’s hair. “Don’t feel guilty, okay?”

Ianto pulled away, avoiding Jack’s eye. “Hard not to.”

“ _Ianto_.”

He looked up at Jack’s tone.

“Don’t, okay? That other version of me… I’m him, and he’s me. In some worlds, I lose you. I know I do.” Jack’s face was hard and stiff as he said it, as though to keep himself from breaking. “But in _this_ one, I don’t. At least not yet. And that’s why I’m gonna keep on fighting.” Jack touched his face. “I promise.”

Ianto couldn’t help it; he leaned forward and kissed Jack, letting his lips linger on his for as long as he could justify before pulling back. “Then let me be there with you.” He eyed the dimensional tether and the box on the table. “We can come up with a new plan. I think… I think what I did before, maybe–”

But he broke off as suddenly blinding pain struck him, like a blunt impact to the base of his skull. It felt as though his head would split, his body burned and dashed to pieces, yet still holding together. He was vaguely aware of screaming, clutching his head, of Jack catching him as he fell to his knees on the floorboards in front of the bar. But his vision had almost entirely whited out.

Still, he could hear Jack’s voice, raised and fearful. “Ianto! Ianto, look at me, Ianto… speak to me. What’s happening…? How can I help?”

He breathed hard, forcing himself back to clarity with an effort that left him exhausted and trembling, clutching Jack’s sleeve. Through sheer force of will, he was able to gain enough control to gasp out words. “Jack...” he could taste blood in the back of his throat, feel it dripping from his nose. “L-listen. No more time. But... I think I can–”

But before he could say anything else there was a great, tearing rumble in the ground. Ianto was aware of Jack gathering him close to his chest, clutching him and struggling to keep them both mostly-upright where they knelt on the ground.

And then a searing, blinding fissure opened with a cacophony that could tear the heart from the chest, and the whole world split apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue from the scenes with Jack and Ianto (and Ianto's dad) in the other timeline was taken entirely from the House of the Dead audio. And on that note... God, I really hope this chapter wasn't too confusing. I find the actual plot of the House of the Dead doesn't make all that much sense on its own (to me at least) so that did not help matters. I think it's written mostly with the emotions of it in mind, which is fine and it breaks my heart and I do like it as a part of canon, but like. In my opinion the plot of HOTD makes no sense when you look at it in the depth required to write fic based off it, mostly in terms of its timeline. But also considerations like, "where anyone is at any given moment/what the fuck actually happened with Syriath/how any of that worked even/how would this look from the outside". Never mind trying to fit in the other plotlines, and the multiple timelines in this fic! So with all that in mind, I hope it wasn't too confusing, or at best, roughly equal to canon in terms of confusion.


	31. Chapter 31

Gwen sighed with relief as she hefted the manhole cover to the surface aside by a few inches, utterly exhausted. Every muscle in her body ached, she felt grimy and damp, and hungry and thirsty into the bargain. But the smell of the outside air brought a momentary wave of relief over her, tinged with car exhaust and rubbish bins though it was.

She blinked in the orange streetlight coming through the narrow crescent gap. Her phone battery had finally given out at least half an hour ago, but to her relief by then there'd been enough of a dim glow of streetlights through the gratings to the surface to keep from falling over, and to navigate – if a little haphazardly – through the vast network of tunnels that stretched under the city, interlinking with the sewer system.

At least the weevils hadn’t given her any trouble, she thought. She was genuinely unsure if she had it in her to do much fighting after the day she’d had. Though that was cause for questions in itself; normally, spending an hour or two wandering the sewer system – Gwen was a little vague on how much time had actually passed since she’d escaped the cellar – would mean you were almost certain to encounter a few weevils, angry at you for encroaching on their territory or defensive of their young. In fact she had seen a pair of weevils at one point, but they'd behaved oddly; they seemed almost scared, though not of anything Gwen could see. Skittish and shying away from her, darting into a side passageway even as she approached. In the distance too, she’d heard weevil calls without seeing the creatures, and she recognised them clearly as distress calls.

If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought something had terrified them into hiding.

But she hadn’t stopped to investigate; weevils were far from Gwen’s priority now, and she had mostly been glad to be left alone.

Putting it from her mind she peered through the crack, trying to see where she was in the city. It looked like a side street, but not one she recognised from the small sliver of building she could see.

Still, it seemed to be empty. And so – cautiously, wearily – she started to work the heavy cover the rest of the way open, inch by inch.

At last she'd shifted it aside enough for her to fit through, just about. She took a deep breath, hoisting herself up–

And then screamed as she saw two car headlights looming large before her in the road, hearing a sudden roar of an engine.

She was able to duck back down into the safe underground blackness just in time, hearing the thrum of the engine overhead. “Let that be a lesson” she muttered as she tried to collect herself, rubbing her bump with one hand and clinging to the ladder with the other. “Road safety. Always look both ways.”

Outside, she heard the car come to a stop, the sound of several pairs of footsteps. Immediately she was wary, shrinking back down into the darkness before she saw a familiar face loom over the hole.

“Stay where you are or I’ll–! ...Wait. _Gwen?!?_ ”

Gwen gasped. “Tosh!” she said, overjoyed.

Tosh was still blinking, nonplussed, hurriedly putting away her gun by the time Owen joined her in peering down into the hatch.

“Oh, hi Gwen” he said. “Any particular reason you’re hanging around in a sewer, or did you just feel like it…?”

“Got locked in a cellar and the only way was down” she grumbled, as two more familiar faces appeared above her. “Oh, hello Lois, Gray. Look, someone help me up, would you please? I can explain everything once I’m out of this bloody sewer.”

“Okay.” Owen craned over her shoulder. “Don’t suppose Ianto’s down there with you then?”

“What? No, why would he be with me? I thought he was meant to be staying put until we fixed all this?”

Owen snorted. “He _was_... I’m afraid he’s done a runner.”

“We managed to track his phone, and it put you and him at the same location” said Tosh.

“Across town, sort of over in that direction” put in Gray, gesturing beyond the parked SUV.

“Yeah” said Owen. “What those two said. The place seemed to be a pub?”

“Sorry, I haven’t seen Ianto since I left. ...I _was_ locked in a pub cellar though.” She thought for a moment. “...Maybe he went after Jack?”

“Yeah, that was our first guess too.”

Tosh sighed, reaching a hand down to Gwen. “Come on” she said. “We can sort out what we know on the way.”

Gwen sighed, letting the others help her climb out onto the street. She supposed it was too much to hope for that today’s misadventures would be over just yet.

Once she was sitting in the back of the SUV with Lois, Gray and Owen – the latter cleaning a large but shallow graze across the back of her knuckles that she hadn’t even realised she had, as they all exchanged stories – she realised she hadn’t known the half of it.

“So, Syriath tried to kill us all, and Jack and Ianto are probably right at the epicentre of where the Rift might be about to split open and swallow everything?” she summarised.

“That about it nails it, I’d say” said Owen, wrapping a bandage around her hand.

“Hmm” said Gwen. “I wonder if–”

But at that moment an alarm started to blare, red warning lights flashing in the car. Lois, who had been keeping an eye on the readouts on one of the onboard screens opposite Gwen, started in alarm. “These readings!” she said. “They just started going haywire...”

Tosh made a noise of frustration under her breath, turning left onto another street. “It must be the Rift. Though, by all rights Syriath should be suppressing the signal still...”

“Maybe she’s given up” said Gray. “Maybe something’s happening that’s more important than–”

But at that moment Tosh gasped, pulling over onto a double yellow line, causing several people to honk their horns and a motorcyclist to swerve and yell a string of curses at them.

“Bloody hell, Tosh” gasped Owen, who had been in the process of putting away his medical kit, which he had barely managed to save from scattering everywhere by clutching it to his chest. “What are you–”

“ _Look!_ ” she hissed, jabbing a finger towards the front windshield. “Up ahead!”

They all looked, craning to see from the back through the front window. Luckily, there wasn’t much question of what she meant. Gwen heard herself gasp as her breath caught in her chest.

Beyond the perpendicular row of buildings at the end of the street, there was something blazing like a thousand flares, white-hot against the darkened sky. It shot far up into the atmosphere, a great expanding tear in the darkness, lighting up the city at night like burning magnesium. Except it didn’t flicker out; it was pulsing, growing in size and power by the moment. Shifting chaotically like the flaring curtains of the northern lights, except a million times brighter, faster, more powerful.

“The Rift...” Gwen whispered, her voice small. Its brightness burned to look at, permanently imprinting itself on her retinas, but she could somehow see movement there. It seemed to almost be rotating inwards on itself, constantly imploding and exploding both at once, sucking greedily at the night sky around it.

“Yeah” said Tosh grimly. “And it’s right up ahead, where we’re going.”

“Near where we think Jack and Ianto are” said Lois, glancing up from the readouts. She looked terrified, Gwen thought, and reached out and took her hand. But as Lois squeezed her hand back, there was a determination to it too.

“Yeah” said Owen. He gave a bitter laugh. “Well, guess that’s convenient. No need to make two stops.”

Gray nodded. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s go.”

* * *

Ianto raised his head gingerly, forcing his eyelids open as much as he physically could against the blinding light. He could see a great crack in the world opening up before him: a few metres off the ground, blazing just above where the ceiling of the pub front room had been.

The upper two storeys of the building seemed to have simply been obliterated; there wasn’t as much debris as there reasonably should have been, Ianto thought. There was the wreckage of the bar and everything that had been in the front room, but if the upper floors had fallen, by rights he should have been completely buried in rubble right now. It was more as though the top half of the building had simply been torn out of the fabric of reality itself in an instant.

He groaned, not really comforted by this, and decided to assess his own physical state instead. Where before he’d been kneeling on the ground, now he found he was almost lying down, having been knocked flat by the blast wave force of the indescribable sound when the Rift had opened, a great tearing that seemed almost like a physical blow to the chest. He struggled to pick himself up, still dizzy and in pain. Pushing bits of debris from the smashed tables, bar stools, and splintered wood paneling off himself, brushing off a glittering layer of glass shards, and struggling to get his bearings.

His eyes immediately filled with tears at the brightness above, blurring the image to distorted light and shade, so he almost didn’t recognise what he was seeing. Until he did. Ianto gasped as he saw Jack stand up from the wreckage, the figure of him silhouetted against the light of the Rift and staring up into it. For once in his life Jack’s posture was hesitant, almost cowering in front of this power so much greater than him. This cosmic fracture they’d kept watch over for so long, suddenly put before him.

But after only a moment Jack had turned away from the Rift, bending down to him.

“Ianto!” Jack grasped his arm, solicitous. “Are you hurt?”

It was a good question, Ianto thought. Everything certainly hurt, but it didn’t feel as though the pain was coming from anywhere in particular. Rather, it seemed to suffuse him, radiating outwards from the back of his skull. But even that was a little dimmer than before, just about bearable if he quashed the urge to scream.

But as for his body itself, he didn’t think he had any injuries beyond a long list of scrapes and bruises. He breathed hard as he allowed Jack to help him to his feet, putting most of his weight on Jack’s arm in the moment before he got his balance back. “F-fine” he gasped. “I’m... fine. I’m okay.”

If Jack didn’t look very comforted by this, Ianto understood completely. “Stay behind me” said Jack, holding out his arms as though placating a dangerous creature as he glanced up at the Rift. “I think this is only the first stage. I think it’s about to–” Jack froze. “ _Get down!_ ”

Ianto didn’t have more than a moment to process this before Jack had tackled him to the ground under the table. At the same moment, his vision went white again as the Rift expanded outwards with a sound like the ringing of a thousand bells, all at discordant tones with one another.

With the sound came another blast wave that shattered the table above Jack, who was shielding Ianto with his body. Ianto heard Jack gasp as something struck them, then go limp on top of him, hot blood dripping from his mouth onto Ianto’s chin.

Then everything went still, but for a bizarre, low rolling sound above, a deep vibration that seemed to shake his very bones overlaid by a higher pitched screaming.

“Jack!” gasped Ianto. “I think it’s okay to–” but he broke off as he realised Jack was dead weight on top of him, not breathing. He felt tears come to his eyes as he gently shifted Jack off him, then let out a soft involuntary sound as he saw the very obvious cause of death; three vast spikes of splintered wood sticking out of Jack’s back, one neatly severing his spinal column.

At least it would have been a quick death. Ianto gritted his teeth, knowing that if Jack hadn’t got in the way they’d be sticking out of his own chest instead. With a sigh, he bent down and began to work the spikes loose. Better to do it now than when Jack was alive again to feel the pain of it, Ianto thought.

By the time he was done, throwing away the bloody splinters and gently turning Jack over onto his back, he noticed something else.

A slight lifting of his hair, his tie. As though gravity were reversing. Ianto looked around him in time to see small splinters of wood and shattered glass begin to rise in a glimmering haze. A moment later, it was larger pieces of debris, rising up and being pulled into the Rift; the sucking force of it seemed to pulse in time with the pounding in Ianto’s head, growing stronger by the moment.

It was also growing, Ianto realised with horror, staring up at it. Against the sky he could see the blinding fissure sucking in... well, he could only describe it as reality itself, in a great whirling cycle, constantly folding inwards on itself from the edges as the sound of it increased, until it was all he could hear.

The heart of was so bright it hurt his eyes to look at. But he could see shapes in there, he realised; whirling tendrils of raw... _something..._ moving and twisting past one another so fast he couldn’t keep track.

And beyond, on the other side, Ianto could see a narrow sliver of the most complete darkness he’d ever seen, outside the black depths of his nightmares. A shudder ran down his whole body, his mind scrambling for purchase, for some frame of reference as he realised he’d had a glimpse _through_ the Rift, to the unknowable void beyond.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, head tilted back, looking up; it was mesmerising, and he had the impression for a moment that even if he wanted to look away he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was also _beautiful_. But beautiful in a way that was cruel, terrifying. More alien than anything Ianto had seen in his brief life, so filled with fearful wonders.

And then he felt something shift at his feet.

He looked down to see Jack’s body before him beginning to rise off the ground towards the Rift.

Ianto’s eyes widened, grasping at Jack’s arm. But the force was growing stronger, and as soon as Ianto tried to pull him back down he found himself being lifted too, his every step a huge, ungainly arc. Almost as though he were walking on the moon, or underwater.

His heart was in his throat as he reluctantly let Jack’s arm go to look at the floor – just for a moment – remembering what they’d been speaking about before. Somewhere under all this rubble was the box Jack had brought. Ianto could set off the detonator and throw it into the Rift, he could still end this… but it must have been under one of the bigger pieces, and he couldn’t see it.

And when he turned back, all thoughts of the box were banished from his mind immediately as he saw Jack’s body floating in midair, his coat drifting around him as though in a gentle breeze. Jack was half upright now, turning slowly as he fell upwards towards the Rift. The force was getting stronger, it would have him soon, and–

–And Ianto made his decision without another moment’s hesitation. With a single, suspended leap he was back across the room, flinging his body forward to catch Jack around the waist. At the same time he flailed outwards with his leg for something to grab onto, anything to hold him to the ground until they could end this.

His foot made contact with wood, shoe catching on what had once been part of the window frame, still partly intact though the ceiling above had been sheared away and the wall around it had mostly fallen down.

He hooked his foot under the frame, heedless of the shattered glass cutting into his ankle, holding onto Jack around he middle with all the strength he had left.

But the Rift was closer than ever; not only were they being pulled towards it, it was expanding outwards too, Ianto realised with horror. Very soon they’d both be _inside_ that fearful, roiling morass of light. _And if they were pulled through to the void at the other end_... he shuddered, not wanting to think about it. Instead he tried to think of a plan. But anything his weary mind come could up with involved letting go of Jack, and he wasn’t prepared to do that.

Maybe if he just held Jack for long enough, he thought, then Jack would be able to save them both. _Wait until Jack came back, and he’d make everything al_ _l_ _right again_ … it wasn’t much of a hope really, but it was all Ianto had right now.

The Rift was almost upon them; Jack was on the very cusp of it, and still Ianto held him back, biting down on his lip so hard he could taste blood. A moment later it had expanded over him too, the corridor of light stretching out before him with that fearful blackness at the very end.

He could see very little, and hear less, his face buried in the back of Jack’s torn and blood-soaked coat as he held on. But his peripheral vision blazed white, too bright for him to look at even out of the corner of his eye. Within the white though, Ianto could see tendrils of something, endless lines of some substance without a name, all whipping and turning and perpetually entangling with each other in a chaotic dance that would have been beautiful if it wasn’t so excruciating. Sending his mind skittering away, scrabbling for purchase as his limited human consciousness tried to make sense of it.

Ianto had never felt so small, so weak in the face of anything before. It hurt less if he squeezed his eyes closed, but even then he could still see it, searing through his eyelids.

Or maybe that wasn’t quite right. It felt as though it was as much in his head as outside, these fast-entwining strings of light, moving too quickly to follow. The sound of them certainly was; it too was incomprehensible, a mingling of every single sound Ianto had ever heard or ever would hear, or perhaps every sound ever emitted in the history of the universe. And then some. It was so loud that he knew, logically, that it must have burst his eardrums already – and in fact, he could feel warm blood sluicing down his skin from his ears, nose, mouth, eyes, mingling with Jack’s blood as he pressed his face into Jack’s wounded back – but he could still hear it, see it, every nerve in his body alight with it, every neuron in his brain overflowing with it.

He felt himself scream, blood in his mouth as he held onto Jack desperately, hands fisting in his clothes, arms around him. But he could feel his grip slipping, the pain eating away at him, sapping his strength against the relentless force dragging Jack upwards. He could feel it lifting him too, pulling his foot against the top of the window frame painfully. He scrabbled for something better to cling to, something else to wrap his leg around and pull them back down to earth. But there was nothing, and he could feel himself being pulled with Jack, his foot tugging at the window frame, nearly slipping. The broken glass dug into the flesh at his ankle, and every muscle in his body, every part of his mind, screamed at him to let go, to try to at least drag himself back down to the ground, away from that blinding tear in the fabric of the universe that was killing him moment by moment.

But he only hung on tighter; he wouldn’t lose Jack to it, not now. He’d keep clinging on until he was dead.

For all that though, Ianto didn’t _want_ to die; not now, not after everything. He’d thought after Thames House that he’d have a little more time. He’d made plans like never before, never since London, since Lisa, before it had all come crashing down the first time. He had his family, and he had Jack, _and oh, god, Jack, he shouldn’t have to spend an eternity alone, he wouldn’t let that happen_ –

He sobbed into the back of Jack’s coat as he felt his grip loosen a few more inches, the inhuman force pulling Jack from him almost too much. But still he held on, desperate and hurting, the world narrowing to just the two of them and the blazing, roiling chaos of raw light.

There was something else _in_ the light though, Ianto realised in some distant part of his mind that was still conscious of his surroundings. And it seemed to be swirling outwards from Jack: a light that was soft and buttery golden, here forming little spiral eddies against the harsh lashing tendrils of blue-white, there getting dragged along with the buffeting current. But it was more than light, somehow. Ianto didn’t know what it was; he squinted against the glare, face still half pressed to Jack’s back even as he tried to see. But after an instant or two, the golden light was caught up in the chaotic whorl inside the Rift, stretched and twisted over and over on itself, tangling the two of them up together. Ianto gasped, as he felt the light enfold him too, and he realised now why it felt so familiar.

It felt like _Jack_ , or rather, it felt like Ianto’s understanding of everything Jack was. It felt like love, the heady, exhilarating joy and the steady comfort and the terrifying vulnerability of loving and letting yourself be loved, all wrapped up together. It felt like time itself, infinite and dizzying. Unspooling into the far future only to be twisted back around by the current, cyclical and endless, wrapping him in a hopeless tangle. Ianto could feel something in his chest, or around him, feel a bond that he hadn’t realised was there tear and snap; it jarred him, rattling every bone in his body, but still he didn’t let go. Yet almost immediately, the better part of the pain was soothed by the touch of that golden glow, what was broken healed over again.

But he was still in pain; more and more of it, weakening him, chipping away at his resolve. Yet still he held on to Jack, on and on, losing track of time. Maybe time didn’t exist here, or maybe it was as tangled as the rush of raw world-stuff that would kill him soon enough.

 _It would kill him, and then Jack would have no one pulling him back at all_...

The thought brought Ianto a touch of clarity, which brought anxiety, mind chasing itself in circles as he tried to think what to do. _The box_ … it could close the Rift forever, or so Jack had said. But Ianto couldn’t reach it even if he did let go of Jack, and that was out of the question.

And then, distantly from behind him, there was a sound. Not the alien roar of the Rift, nor the sound of his own cries of pain, but a familiar sound, a sound of the world. The sound of tires screaming as a car came to a hasty stop, the sound of several voices, each one of them desperately, blessedly familiar.

The voice of Gwen Cooper, raised in love and fear and annoyance.

“Ianto Jones, what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

* * *

They’d all piled out of the car as soon as it had rounded the corner and Tosh had drawn to a halt. Lois found herself wincing a little as she stepped onto her injured leg. The painkillers were starting to wear off a little and she should really ask Owen for another dose, she knew _._

But the pain disappeared from her mind in an instant as she took in the sight before them. The others stood beside her too, frozen and stunned into silence by the sucking vortex of light and sound and _time_ suspended in the air before them. Even from this distance she could feel the force of it tugging at her, drawing her closer, wanting to consume her.

As it would consume the whole world, she thought, remembering the story Jack had told them earlier. Looking at it now, she could easily believe that was true.

“What–” Owen breathed beside her. “Oh, _shit_. Is that…?”

There was something moving in the light, Lois realised as he pointed. The silhouette was almost invisible, but as her eyes adjusted a little, she could see–

“That’s Ianto and Jack” said Tosh, flat and horrified. “Jack’s dead, I think.” She let out a small, upset sound. “Ianto’s holding on to him.”

“We’ve got to go and help them” said Gray, beginning to run down the road. But as soon as he came close to the place, his feet began to leave the ground and they had run and to pull him back, the five of them clinging to the corner of a building together.

“Well, we’re not just running in then, I suppose” said Gwen grimly. “Glad we got that sorted early.”

“Okay, okay, so we go in, holding onto each other if possible, holding onto something solid if not.” said Tosh.

Gwen nodded. “Be _careful_ , everyone.” Lois felt tears prickle in her eyes at the tone of her voice, the desperation there.

She squared her shoulders, following the rest of them towards the shell of what had once been a pub. As they approached the sounds of the city faded as the sound of the Rift increased, deafening and indescribable.

They stood on either side of what had once been the door, all clinging to the edges of it. “Ianto Jones, what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Gwen shouted, her voice sounding small and thin amongst the maelstrom.

“ _G...Gwen?_ ”

Lois watched Gwen’s face light up, the rest of them exchanging tentatively hopeful looks. “Yes, love!” Gwen yelled. “It’s me! It’s all of us. We’re here to get you out!”

But Ianto didn’t answer this. Lois thought she saw him shift as though looking over his shoulder, before grabbing at Jack desperately once again. Looking at the top of the window frame, she could see blood dripping from his ankle where the broken glass cut him. But it was too high to reach without climbing, and the whole structure looked worryingly fragile.

“Gwen! Listen! There’s... a little tin box in the rubble!” shouted Ianto. His voice sounded utterly wrecked, and he was clearly biting back gasps of pain. “It’s got a detonator inside. Activate it – _ah_ – throw it into the Rift. It’ll close it!”

“What about you and Jack?” shouted Gwen.

“I… I don’t know” he gasped. “I can try and–” his voice dissolved into a strangled scream of agony as the Rift expanded even further, making Lois raise her hands to her mouth to muffle her own cry of horror. Now it was almost entirely blocking off their view of Ianto and Jack, only two dim shadows against – within – that terrible brightness.

Gwen turned to the rest of them. “Do you think there’s a chance we could climb that? I’d do it myself, but...” she laughed softly, gesturing at herself. “Not in the best state for climbing right now.”

Owen shook his head. “Doesn’t matter either way. That window frame wouldn’t take the weight of another person; they’d get pulled in, and then Ianto and Jack would too.”

Gwen nodded slowly, looking heartbroken for a moment. But when she turned back to look at them again her face was grim, focused. “Okay, everybody. I want you searching through the rubble for a tin box. I… I don’t know what it is, so be careful. But Ianto says it can close the Rift.”

“Gwen–” said Tosh.

“ _Now!_ ” said Gwen, and Lois didn’t miss the tears in her eyes. But rather than look at them – or at Ianto, still clinging to the window frame above, so close to slipping – she concentrated on the ground, looking around. This was familiar territory at least; finding the right thing for the job, or failing that, improvising.

“Found it!” said Gray after a few minutes, holding something up in his hand. Sure enough, it was a small tin box. Gwen held out her hand for it. But Gray hesitated, glancing up at Jack and Ianto then back at Gwen.

For a second their eyes locked, and Lois tensed, half expecting a fight. But then Gray breathed out, dropping his head and his shoulders as though all the breath had left him, and put the box in Gwen’s hand. She’d never seen him look quite so heartbroken.

For a long moment Gwen held it, just looking at it sitting in her palm. Lois found she couldn’t look away either.  
“I...” Gwen gasped, clutching the door frame with one arm and the box in the other hand, clasping it close to her chest. Tears were flowing down her face. “I don’t know if I can be the one to–”

“Well… someone has to” said Owen; his eyes were dry but his face was pale, jaw clenched as though in terrible pain.

Lois felt tears in her eyes too; she didn’t want to lose Jack or Ianto. They’d both saved her, in their different ways. As her eyes began to blur, she stepped wrongly on her injured leg, sending a bolt of pain up her side. With her wince, she lost her grip momentarily on the broken panel she was clinging to, still half attached to the ground. For a single, dizzying moment she was floating, before she managed to grab onto a broken turned wood pillar that was all that remained of the canopy above the bar, gasping in relief as she wrapped her arms around it.

“Lois!” Gwen was saying behind her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” she said. “Fine.” She looked up at the Rift; she could hardly see Jack and Ianto now, and it wasn’t because of the tears rolling down her face. “...Do it” she said. “I think we’re running out of time...”

Gwen nodded, exchanging looks with the others before raising the tin box reluctantly.

Lois turned her head away, not wanting to look.

And when she did, she saw something silver-bright in her peripheral vision. She glanced back, hardly daring to hope, and – yes, there it was. Caught on a broken spar amongst the rubble a little way off, already beginning to drift.

Something long and uncoiling, shimmering with iridescent colour in the light of the Rift. Her heart jumped into her throat, beating fast. But this time it wasn’t out of fear, but hope.

“ _Stop!_ ” Lois shouted, as loud as she could. “Gwen, wait!”

“Wh-what?”

Lois turned her head so fast she jarred her neck. “The dimensional tether! I... I have an idea. I can still save Ianto and Jack…”

Her mind was racing, going back to two days ago – and had it only been two days? – to sitting with Ianto in their makeshift office over tea and coffee and muffins as it got dark outside, laughing together to make the memory of a bad day feel a little more distant.

Peering at the dimensional tether between them, she remembered his words about what it was used for. It was their best hope, she was certain. And with that it was easy to launch herself forward towards the piece of broken wood on which it was tangled. She felt a jolt in her stomach as for a moment she was in freefall, the tug of the Rift behind her a constant source of fear.

But with a task to do, Lois felt oddly calm; it had always been like that for her. And a moment later she was clinging to the rough wood, wincing at the splinters in her palms out of reflex. But she wasted no time in grabbing the silvery cord, coiling it back up again and looping it over one shoulder before making her hasty way around the wall, clinging on all the while.

“Lois, hurry!” Tosh shouted. She was holding up her PDA which was emitting an insistent, high-pitched warning tone. “The Rift… I think we’re running out of time...”

Lois bit her lip as she came to the broken door frame with the rest of them, Gray and Owen catching her between them, the four of them linking arms. Gwen was at the window below Ianto, the box held up in one hand, waiting for their signal. Lois let the others brace her in place as she tied the rope in a loose sort of loop – she’d never learned how to properly tie a lasso, but this would have to do – and held it up, looking around at the others.

Owen laughed, slightly hysterically. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Do it!”

She bit back her protest, nodding as she spun the loop around and threw it with all her strength. It missed spectacularly, falling upwards into the Rift before she pulled it back. But she wasted no time in trying again. This time it missed by less, hitting Ianto’s back but not going around him or Jack. As she tried to pull it back, there was a horrifying moment when she nearly lost her grasp on it, but she held on.

She felt a hand on her back then, and looked up to see Gray. “One more time” he said, and there were tears running down his face as there were all the others’. Tosh and Owen’s hands came up on her shoulders on either side, and Gwen gave her a nod across the room.

Lois bit her lip, and threw.

And this time the loop went around Ianto and Jack neatly, tightening around Ianto’s shoulders and Jack’s waist. “Help me!” gasped Lois, as she felt it pull taut with the force, almost dislodging it from her grip. But she held on by pure willpower until the others’ hands were there too, pulling along with her. With four of them, it was not such an impossible feat; it still took more strength than Lois had thought she had, but the others kept holding on, and so did she, pulling the two of them back out of the Rift by inches.

Tosh had dropped her PDA but it was floating now, still emitting an alarm as it drifted towards the Rift. “Not… much… time… left…” Tosh gasped.

“Well, everyone bloody pull harder then!” Owen shouted at them, and they did.

And then – _finally_ – Ianto and Jack were clear of the Rift, floating in the middle of the room a few feet above the ground. The force was still almost too much, the tether still cut into Lois’s hands so deeply she could feel her grip becoming slippery with blood, but she wrapped the end of it around her wrists for the final moments. The alarm was still shrilling, and she heard Owen cry out. “Gwen! They’re clear! Do it _now!_ ”

And she was still pulling as Gwen threw the box in a precise arc, right into the depths of the Rift where Jack and Ianto had been before.

And a moment later there was a muted explosion, tiny in comparison to the power of the Rift itself. But a moment after that, the whole thing seemed to convulse, as though it was a living creature trying to spit something out. The very world itself began to tremble, reality twisting and warping. All of them were screaming, clinging to each other and to the tether, and–

“ _Everyone get down!_ ” screamed Gwen. Even as she said it they all darted for cover on either side of the remains of the door frame, Gwen ducking behind the last two feet of wall to remain standing, covering her head and her stomach with her hands.

And then the world went utterly white with the force of the blast wave, blistering heat, a supernova of pure time itself. Lois’s ears were ringing. But even as she reeled from it there was a great sucking implosion.

And with that the force on the rope went rapidly slack, as gravity reverted and Ianto and Jack toppled to the ground in the ruined doorway.

And then the light went out.

After what felt like a long, long time, Lois tentatively lifted her head, bloody hands finally unclasping from the tether. Around her the others were doing the same, pale and shaken but unharmed. A little way off she could see Gwen getting up and dusting herself down, walking the short distance towards them on unsteady feet. “Tosh. Is it over? Is it safe to go back in there?”

“I… I think so...” Tosh picked up the PDA from amongst the debris with slightly trembling fingers, staring at the display incredulously. “The Rift… there’s nothing. It’s _gone…_?”

But her voice faded into the background as Owen scrambled to his feet, pushing past Gray and Lois to get to where Ianto lay. Jack was sprawled beside him, and Gray positioned himself at his head, clasping his brother’s still hand and peering down anxiously at the two of them.

As Gwen and Tosh came to kneel beside them too, Lois glanced over, feeling a wash of horror; both Jack and Ianto were covered in blood, though whose blood wasn’t clear. Jack’s shirt and coat were splattered with it, from the half-sealed puncture wounds in his back, with Ianto’s bloody handprints all down the front of his shirt.

But if Jack looked bad, Ianto was utterly soaked in blood, spilling down from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, clumping his eyelashes together, chest sodden with scarlet. Like Jack, what skin could be seen was raw and blistered, as though he’d been burned by intense heat or radiation.

Lois looked over at Owen, fearful. Owen’s face was grim as he took Ianto’s pulse. “Not breathing, and he’s got no heartbeat” he said, beginning to do chest compressions, alternating between blowing air into Ianto’s mouth. “Shit. Fuck. Anyone got any clever ideas on what the bloody hell that thing did to him?”

“No idea” said Gwen, and the others shook their heads too.

“Well, s’pose it won’t matter, unless I can–” Owen broke off, giving Ianto air again.

Gwen was squeezing Ianto’s hand. “Oh, god, he can’t be…” she swallowed. “Not now, not after… Fuck, Owen, you have to save him! Please, oh my god, please...”

“Stop it!” snapped Tosh, uncharacteristically abrupt. “He’ll be fine, Owen’ll help him, we can–”

But Owen interrupted her, pressing on Ianto’s chest again. “Stop it all of you. Gwen, call an ambulance. Gray, when Jack wakes up, stop him from–”

But he was interrupted by a gasp as Jack jerked back to life, struggling in Gray’s arms.

“Shh! It’s okay, it’s–”

But Jack pushed Gray off, catching him off guard. “Ianto!” he gasped, pushing past Lois, who barely managed to get out the way. Her heart was racing with panic and she felt stunned, barely able to breathe herself as she watched Jack shove Owen aside.

“Oi, Jack, I’m trying to save him, you can’t–” Owen snapped, but Jack wasn’t listening. He’d scooped Ianto’s head and shoulders up into his lap, cradling him with heartbreaking gentleness.

“Jack!” shouted Gwen, shoving his shoulder. “Leave him to Owen, he can–”

“No, no no _no…_ not again… _please…_ Ianto…”

“Oh, god, there’s nothing we can do...”

“Stop it...”

“Jack, let him go, he’s...”

Their voices mingled together, shouting over each other until Lois felt as though her head was going to burst. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling dreadfully guilty and alone in the midst of them and their grief; who was she to claim to really be one of them anyway, when they’d all loved each other so long? And besides, this was her fault, partly, she should have pulled harder, she should have been quicker, she should have–

She looked up to see Jack rocking Ianto to his chest, bloody tears dripping down onto his still face as Jack leaned down to kiss his lips, as though trying to kiss the life back into him. If Lois’s eyes were filled with tears, then so were the others’; Owen, trying to push Jack aside with no success, then relenting, shoulders drooping down as though in resignation to the inevitable. Gray hanging back, looking devastated, Tosh’s shoulders shaking as she sobbed into her hands. Gwen still holding Ianto’s slack hand amongst the rubble, her grip white-knuckled on his bloody fingers.

Lois’s heart felt utterly hollow as she saw Tosh raise her head to Owen. “There’s nothing we can do this time, is there?” she heard Tosh whisper. “No time travel, no cure. Nothing.”

She saw him slowly shake his head, taking Tosh’s hand and running his thumb over the back of it. “Don’t think so, Tosh” he said softly, as though he could barely believe it himself. “No, I don’t reckon there is.”

Jack raised his head, looking from one of them to the next; she could barely stand to look in his eyes. He opened his mouth as though to speak but no words came; only a wrenching sob over Ianto’s still body, before Jack went still too. Face just inches from Ianto’s, rocking him slightly as he wept silently.

In the stillness, they heard the sirens getting louder, closer.

Owen sighed, deep and heavy and full of sorrow. “We should–”

But he didn’t get any further.

Because at that moment, Ianto’s body convulsed, his head shooting up and hitting Jack’s nose with an audible _crunch_ as Ianto gasped in a huge, wheezing breath. Lois let out an involuntary cry of shock, but it was drowned under the sound of Ianto’s yell of alarm. “ _Ahhh_ …! Oh...” he panted, hands scrabbling to grasp handfuls of Jack’s coat, immediately bursting into a coughing fit for at least half a minute. When it was done, he drew in an effortful, rattling breath, staring around in absolute confusion. “I… J-Jack...” he looked around at the others. “The Rift…! And I was… I was…” his eyes were round with shock, in a way that would have been almost comical if it hadn’t been anything but. He looked up at Jack. “...I broke your nose… I’m sorry...”

Jack just sat there, open mouthed, utterly stunned into silence. Apparently heedless that yet more blood was flowing freely down his face from his nose.

Gwen shuffled forward. “Ianto...” she said, peering at him, almost fearful. “ _What–_?”

But she didn’t get any further, as at that moment there was another sound behind her; a bizarre whirring-pulsing sound, like nothing Lois had ever heard before.

But this at least seemed to bring Jack back to his senses a little. Though it did cause him to look even more confused, which Lois wouldn’t have thought possible a moment ago.

Not that she was any better herself. Because when she followed Jack’s gaze, she had to blink to check she wasn’t seeing some kind of mirage or hallucination, and even then she wasn’t entirely certain.

Because materialising slowly into view in the wreckage of the pub front room was an old-style police box – like the one by Earl’s Court tube station, said some nonsensical part of her mind – apparently newly painted with a rich dark blue.

When it became solid, the doors swung open, and out stepped a man; animated and rather wiry, with a sideways flick of brown hair, dressed in a tweed jacket and a red bow tie.

“Jack Harkness!” said the man, throwing his arms wide. “What _have_ you done now?”

Jack didn’t answer; he just stared at the man, as though he couldn’t speak even if he tried. In the face of his silence, the man continued. “See, I was just passing by on my way back to Leadworth to see some friends, when what should the old girl’s sensors pick up but – oh. _Oh!_ ” And just as quickly as that, the man’s attention was no longer on him; instead, his eyes were fixed on Ianto, still cradled in Jack’s arms. Lois couldn’t miss that Ianto’s fingers twisted a little more tightly in Jack’s coat sleeve as the man brought out a strange, cylindrical instrument. It glowed green at the tip and emitted a whirring sound as he pointed it at Ianto. “To repeat my question, because it was a _good_ one” the man said, getting down on his hands and knees with an intent look on his face, “what _have_ you done now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: there really is a police box outside Earl's Court tube station, one of the few left in the UK (I think there's another one in Glasgow, though I can't remember if that one's still there since I haven't been for a few years)
> 
> On another note, this was.... one of the most emotionally intense chapters so far, for me personally to write anyway (and possibly also to read? I'll let you be the judge of that!) But on the other hand, I've had a lot of parts of this chapter planned since REALLY early on and have been very excited to get to it! 
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed it... I honestly hope it wasn't too cliche. I do feel like I always borrow imagery from other works, but then who doesn't (and bonus points for guessing my inspiration(s) for some of the visuals in this!) 
> 
> Anyway yes all will be explained next chapter... in the meantime, please let me know what you thought! Or join me on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe! Until next time my darlings!


	32. Chapter 32

“Doctor,” said Jack, clutching Ianto tighter as the Doctor ran the sonic screwdriver over him, a look of irritation appearing on Ianto’s face, “ _what_ – I mean, not that I’m not glad to see you, but… what’s going on? Why are you here?”

Ianto’s scowl deepened as the Doctor raised his eyebrow and started going over Jack with the sonic screwdriver now.

“Doctor...”

This time the Doctor did look at him. “Big Rift event, huge, throwing off energy like it’s going out of style, and you, a fixed point in space and time right on top of it? It was giving me the spatio-temporal heebie-jeebies from a thousand miles off.” The Doctor gave a full body shudder. “But apparently I didn’t know the half of it... _well_ , maybe I knew about forty-eight percent of it, I should give myself a little credit, but the point is, I certainly wasn’t expecting to get sucked right into the centre of a near-critical-point inversion collapse. The void was right there, wide open, Jack. Did you know?”

“ _I_ knew” said Ianto, meeting his eye with something like defiance, as though daring the Doctor to challenge him. “I saw it. Jack was about to get pulled into it. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The Doctor looked into Ianto’s eyes for a moment, several expressions playing across his face. Surprise, sorrow, nostalgia, a hint of pride, and something else Jack couldn’t quite recognise. A moment later the Doctor sighed. “Yeah” he said, heavily. “I know.” But he collected himself almost immediately. “The question _is_ , what’s happened to–”

Before he could finish the sentence Ianto began coughing again. Jack recognised the sound immediately; wheezing and painful-sounding. Exactly like in the first weeks after Thames House.

Immediately Jack was on his knees beside Ianto, with Owen on his other side a moment later.

“Ianto, d’you have your inhaler?” said Owen.

Ianto glared at him mutinously, eyes watering from the effort of drawing in one wheezing breath after another. “I haven’t... needed it for m-months” he said, voice tight with frustration, broken up by coughing. “I was _better_.”

“...So no, then.” Owen tutted under his breath. “Okay, we can go back and–”

“I have a spare” interrupted Jack, hand going inside one of his coat pockets. He’d got into the habit of carrying them while Ianto was still recovering and had never stopped, even though Ianto barely needed the medication anymore. Six months seemed to have rushed by, far too short for Jack to let his guard down. He rooted in his inner pocket, resolutely ignoring Ianto’s eyeroll and pressing the inhaler into his hands, helping him take a puff of medication.

Gradually, Ianto’s coughing subsided. But his breathing still sounded bad, worse than it had been since the early days. Jack rubbed Ianto’s back, and Ianto allowed it for a moment before he twitched away from his touch impatiently, scrambling to his feet in front of the Doctor. It obviously took a lot of effort for him to do so. But he held himself up determinedly, knuckles white against the remains of the wall. “What happened, was–” he began, but at that moment, another siren blared loud in the background, obviously turning the corner into the street.

“Explanations can wait” said Jack. “First, we need to clear this site. Cover story, CCTV, the whole thing. Quick. Emergency services are on their way.”

“Oh” said Tosh, holding up the pendant around her neck. “I can handle that.” And before Jack could say anything else, a time bubble had expanded around the remains of the pub, abruptly cutting off the sound from outside.

“Clever trick” said the Doctor. “Maybe just a smidgen _too_ clever. How–”

But Owen shook his head. “It’s Tosh, there is no too clever. Now, you heard Jack. Get moving, people.” He held out a hand to Ianto. “Not you. I need to check you over, figure out what’s wrong.”

“For god’s sake. There’s nothing _wrong_ with–” Ianto’s protest was interrupted by another coughing fit, doubling over before Jack was there beside him.

As he let Ianto lean on him, he noticed that where before Ianto’s skin had been raw and burned, the marks had since faded until Jack almost couldn’t see them amidst the layer of dirt and blood smeared on his face.

Ianto straightened up, breathing still laboured but a little clearer. “I’m… fine” he rasped.

“Ianto...”

“Later. We have a job to do, don’t we?” Ianto said, tearing his gaze away. But not before Jack had caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes; he looked on edge, panicky and twitching. Jack knew that look; he wasn’t feeling far off it himself. But he also knew that what Ianto needed right now was to do _something_ , to be busy and feel useful in the way that always calmed him down.

And so – despite his misgivings – Jack let him go. “Yeah” he said. “You’re right.” They could talk later, once he had his own thoughts a little more in order too.

After about forty minutes had passed in the time-locked bubble, Tosh wiped off her hands on her jeans, pushing back her dusty hair in obvious exhaustion. “There. That’s about as plausible a fake gas explosion as I can manage right now. Not much I can do about the missing roof, but hopefully they’ll buy it.”

“I think it’s an excellent fake gas explosion” said the Doctor, nodding approvingly, “as these things go. Good work, everyone.” But Jack noticed that the Doctor was only partly paying attention; his eyes kept slipping to Ianto, almost warily.

Jack blinked, realising everyone else was looking at him. “Yeah, it looks great” he said. In fairness, it was true. “And the fake witness reports–”

“...Will be sent to the usual list of local radio stations and the police, as soon as I restart time.”

He nodded. “Then we should be good to get out of here. Doctor...” he glanced over. “You want to come with us back to base? We’ve got a temporary place right now, but there should be space to park the Tardis in our front room.”

The Doctor grinned. “Oh, I’d love to!” he said, clasping his hands in excitement before going serious again, hand stroking the side of the Tardis in something resembling concern. “She doesn’t like this place any more than I do. The scar left by the Rift makes her queasy. Or at least, part of it’s that.” Jack did not miss the meaningful look he gave him before switching his gaze over to Ianto, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was returning the gaze with something between discomfort and outright suspicion.

He didn’t understand what this was – or maybe he did, and only _hoped_ he was wrong – but he knew he had to do something about it.

“Hey, uh, why don’t you guys go with the Doctor” said Jack abruptly, as Tosh deactivated the time bubble with a quiet _pop,_ and the Doctor opened the door of the Tardis. “I should drive the SUV back. Ianto, come with me?”

Ianto was frowning at him, but he caught Jack’s meaningful gaze and nodded in obvious relief.

The Doctor nodded slowly too, meeting Jack’s eye; this was a new face and Jack hadn’t learned to read the nuances of the Doctor’s expressions yet, but the look he was giving Ianto set Jack’s heart beating nervously. The two of them were eyeing each other like cagey alley cats, and though he understood Ianto’s side of it – mostly – he didn’t like the way the Doctor was acting one bit.

“Good idea” said the Doctor, shepherding the others inside. “Oh, you weren’t here last time!” he heard the Doctor say to a very shocked-looking Lois. “Don’t worry. Everyone makes a face like that when they see it for the first time. Or, a face like this...” he pulled a bizarre face and Lois laughed nervously, until Jack met her eye and nodded, hoping she’d understand he’d trust this man with his life, immortal or otherwise.

Luckily she seemed to get the message, following the Doctor into the Tardis with deliberate steps. “Gray!” he heard the Doctor say, before they went inside. “Looking better, you are. How’s the brain been since I moved all the furniture around? Doing well I hope?”

“Are you two… going to be okay?” said Gwen’s voice behind them, the last to enter. Jack turned to her, looking back at Ianto getting into the SUV. _Ianto, who had been dead in his arms for several minutes,_ _who’d died to save Jack from the void, and then, somehow_ –

“We’ll be fine” called Ianto firmly, meeting Gwen’s eye and giving her a nod. “Come on Jack, get in the car. Unless you want to get stuck explaining to emergency services for four hours.”

“Like he said” said Jack, managing a smile. “We’ll be fine.”

Thankfully Gwen seemed satisfied by that, or at least by whatever rapid nonverbal conversation had passed between her and Ianto just now.

When Jack got in the SUV, Ianto was sitting bolt upright in the passenger seat, fidgeting with his hopelessly torn and bloodstained tie. Neither of them said anything as Jack drove them down the street and around the corner.

Jack was trying to decide what to say to break the heavy silence that had descended on the car, when Ianto did it for him. “Jack” he said, voice still a little rasping. “I know there’re… _things_ that happened today, that we need to talk about. A _lot_ of things.”

Jack winced. “Yeah. There sure are.”

“...But can we...” Ianto coughed a little, and Jack looked over to him in concern and saw that his hands had moved from his tie; now he was digging the nails of his right hand into the skin of his left, the soft part where the thumb met the back of his hand. “Can we not do it now?” said Ianto. “Can we… save it for later?”

“...Yeah” he found himself saying. “Yeah, of course.” If he hadn’t been driving, Jack would’ve reached for him and held him in his arms, or at least laid his hand on Ianto's, stilling his nervous fingers; he couldn’t stand to see Ianto like this. He sighed. “...I get it, you know.”

In his peripheral vision, Jack saw Ianto squinting at him. “Do you?” he said. “I almost lost you today, Jack. That… shouldn’t happen. Not with you.”

“And I almost lost _you_ ” said Jack, feeling agitated annoyance raise its head again despite his better judgement. “And that happens all the time and it never gets any easier, okay?” He sighed, remembering his promise. “Later” he said, stopping at a red light and laying his hand on the back of Ianto’s; with that small touch alone he felt Ianto’s muscles relax a fraction. “We let Owen and the Doctor look you over. We make sure the Rift is really stable. And then, we talk. Deal?”

Ianto took his hand and squeezed it briefly, before releasing it for Jack to drive with as the light turned green. “Deal.”

It was only a few more minutes to their destination, but the silence between them was a little less strained. At last Jack pulled to a halt by the loading bay in the alley behind the house, and made to undo his seatbelt.

“Jack. Wait.”

He paused and looked around at Ianto, who leaned forward across the gearbox and kissed him, brief and swift and a little clumsy. Jack couldn’t help but smile, reminded of the first time Ianto had ever kissed him; after the incident with the Saviour, sitting in the car just as they were now. Weary, hungry and desperate, but even sweeter than Jack would have expected, had he expected it at all. It had been an unlooked-for joy then, but now it was also a familiar comfort. Reminding him of how far they’d come, of how far they might continue into the future.

Ianto patted Jack’s knee, interrupting his brief reverie. “Come on” Ianto said, opening the passenger door. “Let’s go see the Doctor.”

Inside they found the Doctor in the window room. The Tardis was awkwardly parked in front of the window and taking up a lot of the space, the long table crammed lengthwise into the opposite corner. Tosh was tapping at her laptop again, rerunning Rift energy scans. Owen was checking Gwen over while she talked on the phone to Rhys. Lois and Gray were nowhere to be seen, but the Doctor was standing in the corner, apparently taking a great interest in Owen’s plants.

As Jack and Ianto came into the room he spoke without turning around. “Ver’halian finger-eater lotus. Gets a bad rap in most galactic horticultural circles. Because of the whole finger-eating thing, I suppose. But that’s mostly the result of a regrettable misunderstanding; it doesn’t _actually_ eat people’s fingers, but once it reaches maturity it extends small finger-like pseudopodia, implants them in the skin of nearby creatures, and drains the blood from their bodies in five seconds flat. Don’t worry though, I shouldn’t think this one will reach maturity for another couple of months, though it can be a little hit and miss telling when it’s going to happen...” he turned around, clasping his hands together and smiling at Jack and Ianto. “Ah, hello. I’ve been hearing how your old base got a bit… exploded. Love what you’ve done with this one.”

“Thanks” said Jack, a little impatient. “Doctor. Can you check, to make sure Ianto’s...” he felt the fear rising again with the memory of how it had felt to hold Ianto, so still, _dead_ , and have him flinch back to life in his arms, the fear of what it might mean... “...okay?” he finished, a little uselessly.

“Of course, if he’ll let me.”

Jack made eye contact with Ianto, who folded his arms, nodded, and sat down on a chair in the middle of the room, still covered in blood. “Okay then. Let’s get this over with, I suppose.”

* * *

About an hour passed, during which the Doctor mostly asked Ianto soft questions, prodding and poking at him with the sonic screwdriver as well as other instruments Jack vaguely recognised from the Tardis, and some he didn’t. During that time Gray had emerged from the loft, having fed Myfanwy and settled her for the night, and Lois had come back with a large pot of tea for everyone. Shortly after this, Rhys had responded to Gwen’s phone call to reassure him they were all okay by arriving with a frankly excessive amount of Chinese takeaway boxes. He’d stayed, too, and was currently sitting next to Gwen at the table, a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Jack hadn’t had the heart to try to send any of them home. In truth, the thought had barely crossed his mind; he’d been too distracted watching the Doctor pore over Ianto, brow furrowing more and more by the moment as he checked the readings from his sonic screwdriver. Meanwhile, Ianto himself was also looking increasingly impatient with every passing minute; having been instructed to sit still and not move until this was done, he’d resigned himself to giving up on his compulsion to make them all coffee and shoo the Doctor off the premises. But evidently, he had no intention of pretending to be happy about it.

“ _So!_ ” said the Doctor eventually, straightening up with a flourish. He addressed the whole table, through the half a spring roll that was sticking out of his mouth and spraying a small burst of crumbs onto the floor. There was a brief pause as he chewed and swallowed. “...As far as I can tell, what happened is something like this. Jack...” he pointed dramatically at Jack with his sonic screwdriver, causing Ianto to roll his eyes very slightly behind his back. “...Your original plan was sound. Well, I say sound, I mean extremely risky and about, hmm, ninety-four percent… no, ninety-five point five percent likely to fail and/or lead to the destruction of at the very least the whole city and possibly the entire planet. But theoretically – _theoretically_ – doable.”

“Okay” said Jack warily.

“Wait, Jack, what _was_ your original plan?” said Gwen curiously, pouring more tea for herself and for Rhys, who was scooping another helping of noodles onto her plate.

Jack sighed, spinning a chopstick between his fingers and looking at Gwen. “Since Thames House, Ianto’s personal timeline was… damaged. Unstable. And it had become so tangled up with the Rift’s spatio-temporal field, that the strain it was causing was about to trigger a massive spatio-temporal inversion collapse. So, I thought if I could disconnect Ianto’s timeline from the Rift, and then close the Rift for good...”

“Like I said” said the Doctor. “Sound plan. ...ish. Except the next bit… tell them, Jack.”

Jack gave a put-upon sigh, folding his arms on the table. “I thought, if I could connect the Rift onto my own timeline instead, then that would stabilise it and help the process run smoothly…”

The Doctor nodded. “Good thought, I suppose. Fixed point in time and space, most stable thing around.”

“...But I guess that’s not what happened” said Jack. He shrugged, at all their faces looking at him incredulously. “The thing with the box… Ianto, I didn’t lie to you. It really was a backup plan. I hoped I’d never have to do it.”

“But we did it” said Gwen, frowning. “Or, I did. So, what happened? Are you connected to the Rift now?”

“No, he’s not” said the Doctor, with a smile. “See, being _inside_ the Rift, on the cusp of the void but not quite in it… you can think of it like a big space-time blender. Raw threads of… stuff… time and space all in its constituent pieces, churning up timelines and spitting out new ones. Definitely not a good place for humans to spend any length of time.” He raised his eyebrows. “And definitely, _definitely_ not for a fixed point and a man with a timeline that’s all...” he made a complicated hand gesture, wrinkling his nose.

“Thanks” said Ianto flatly.

“But what _happened_?” said Tosh.

The Doctor looked right at her and then at the others watching him, before walking over to the table and picking up a noodle from a mostly-empty carton. He held it up, swinging it from side to side.

“Timelines” the Doctor said, “are a little bit like noodles. Well, they’re absolutely nothing like noodles, but let’s ignore that and pretend they are.” He dropped the noodle on the table with a wet _splat_ , before laying it out flat with his fingers. Ianto wrinkled his nose at the smear of sauce on the polished wood, but said nothing.

“So” said the Doctor. “Imagine this noodle is the timeline of the life of Ianto Jones. Now, at the moment that Ianto died in Thames House last year, the timeline would’ve been cut off...” Jack tensed involuntarily as the Doctor put his finger on the noodle. “But instead, the fact that you lot traveled back in time to save Ianto created a new timeline.” He picked up a second noodle, placing it so it appeared to branch from the first. “And it should’ve been stable… I heard what you did, even I have to admit you were as careful about it as possible given the circumstances, and I _really_ shouldn’t approve of stuff like that. But the Rift...” the Doctor picked up another noodle, carefully winding it around the branch, “got tangled with the new timeline, destabilising it.” He gave the Rift noodle a few tugs, making the whole pattern shift and go crooked, smearing even more sauce on the table.

“Okay, yes” put in Owen. “That’s why Jack was trying to close the Rift. We understand that part.”

“Yes, but instead of disconnecting Ianto’s timeline from the Rift and connecting the Rift’s timeline to his own instead like he planned, Jack managed to disconnect Ianto’s timeline from the Rift, and connect Ianto’s timeline to his own.” said the Doctor. He took hold of the branched noodle again, picking up the smaller piece. “See, the space inside the Rift, before you get through to the void on the other side, is a chaos of different timelines from everywhere and everywhen in the universe, all touching each other and twisted together, mostly at random. Space-time bleeds them when it’s torn like that.”

“That’s why you get stuff coming through from everywhere” said Tosh, in sudden understanding.

The Doctor nodded. “Yes. That’s what the Rift _is_. ...Well, _was_ , now, but… basically what happened is the branch of Ianto’s timeline that was causing… problems… came loose...” he put the noodle back down on the table and picked up a second on from the box, tying the first piece in a neat knot around it, “...and got itself looped around Jack’s timeline. ...’Course, you have to imagine Jack’s time noodle is infinite in length–" he glared at Owen, who had snorted, “–and I don’t know why you’re _giggling_ , this is _serious_ – but anyway. Can’t get a loop off an infinite line except by cutting one or the other of them, once they’re connected. That’s just topology.”

“Doctor...” breathed Jack. “Are you saying what you think you’re saying? Are you saying Ianto’s timeline is…. connected to mine?”

“Yep. Looped right around it.”

“ _Permanently?_ ”

“Eh, well...” the Doctor made a wiggly hand gesture, then sighed. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“B-but” said Jack, head spinning, “I’m... immortal… like you said, my timeline is _infinite_.”

“Like I said, indeed. Most stable thing around.”

“But… but that means...”

“It _means_ ” said the Doctor, addressing Ianto now, “you’re living on a loop now, so you'd best get used to it. How long since you died the first time?”

“Excuse me?”

“How long since you died?” said the Doctor, as though it was a perfectly normal question. Jack was suddenly forcefully reminded of his own first few deaths, _everything_ _he’d felt, when he finally came to understand_ –

“...Or rather,” the Doctor was saying, “how long since the branch in the timelines?”

“It was the tenth of September, last year” said Ianto, without pause. “So that makes it... six months and eight days. Or, a hundred and eighty-nine days.”

“So you, my friend, are living on a time loop of a hundred and eighty-nine days. How are your lungs feeling?”

Ianto frowned at the question. “Not the best” he admitted; his breathing did still sound worryingly wheezy to Jack. “But I can deal with it.”

“Yeah, don’t listen when he says that” said Owen, bringing a finger down on the stack of medical notes in front of him. “Ianto’s blood oxygen and and lung capacity are way down; it’s almost like it was when he was in hospital, or when he'd just got out at least.” He frowned, turning to give Ianto a rather accusatory look. “Which is really bloody weird, because by all rights you shouldn’t be able to stand up right now. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before, except for… maybe...” his head swiveled so he was staring at Jack, and he dropped the notes back to the table, eyes suddenly wide. “...Oh my god.”

Ianto was glaring at Owen. “I’m...” he suppressed a short fit of wheezing, “... _fine_ , Owen.”

“Okay, don’t throw a hissy fit, I wasn’t telling you to go to your room” said Owen, collecting himself and paging through his notes again. He spoke rapidly, animated as his eyes darted, thinking fast. “I meant it _literally_ ; you shouldn’t be able to function normally like this. And that’s even if we ignore those weird burns you were covered in before, and the fact that you look like you bled out all over yourself. When we found you, you weren’t breathing and had no heartbeat.” Owen raised his eyebrows. “So yes, you are surprisingly fine right now. And before I had no fucking idea why, but...” he looked between Ianto and Jack, incredulous. “I… think I might have one now.”

Ianto frowned, mouth open but no words coming out.

“I have a pretty good one too” said the Doctor. “I told you. Ianto’s timeline is looped onto Jack’s infinite one. So, if he dies...”

“He’ll… come back” said Owen, into the hush that had descended on the room. Jack felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. _No, no this couldn’t be happening; this was his worst fear. He’d never wanted this for anyone else, least of all_ –

“Wait” said Owen, getting to his feet and starting to pace. “Wait, wait, wait. You said he was living on a loop of... what was it?”

“A hundred and eighty-nine days.”

“That means, he’s... gone back to the start of the loop again? He’ll have the Thames House virus symptoms, for...”

“Probably for a little less time than he had them the first time” said the Doctor.

“Right, because of Jack’s healing ability” said Owen, nodding. “That makes sense. Well, no it doesn’t, like, at _all_ , but...” he raised his head, looking at Ianto, his shoulders drooping. “You’re... you’re going to live forever, but you’re going to have a few weeks of mild to moderate alien asthma every six months?”

“Six months and eight days” said Ianto, whose face had gone blank with shock. The others had fallen quiet, simply listening.

“Bloody hell” said Owen, and sat down hard on his chair.

“...I don’t think that’s all though” said the Doctor, running his sonic screwdriver up and down Ianto’s head again, especially around his temples and the base of his skull.

“Oh, there’s more?” said Ianto. He sounded as though he just wanted to go to sleep, and Jack couldn’t blame him. He knew he himself wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find out this had all been an unpleasant dream. It was real though, and the very worst was that some small, selfish part of Jack’s heart was crying out in desperate, wordless joy and relief. But he shoved it down far, far out of sight within him.

Even if it meant he didn’t have to lose Ianto, it didn’t matter. No one deserved to be forced to go through what he had.

“I think so” the Doctor was saying. “I think...” he raised the sonic screwdriver up to his face, “...oh. Oh! Yes, I think...” he pointed it at Ianto’s head again. “Ianto. I’m told you were able to move between alternate timelines?”

“Only today” said Ianto. “Before that, it was more like… seeing them, for the last few weeks. It was only just before the Rift opened that I was able to move between them, through that... in between place.”

“I _think_ you might still be able to do that” said the Doctor thoughtfully. “Funny little leftover from the messy splitting of your timelines.”

Ianto frowned. “I couldn’t do it on purpose, most of the time.”

“Oh no? Try. Try right now.”

“But, I don’t know how–”

“ _Try_.”

“Doctor–” Jack began.

But Ianto held up his hand. “Okay.” He closed his eyes, making a series of strange faces as he pressed his hands to the sides of his head, before gasping, coughing and wheezing. “Ah… I couldn’t–” he said, clutching his head. “I... I got something, a flash of something anyway. This room was empty, everyone was out, but that was all...” his knuckles were white under the blood, his hands clasped together tight enough to leave little red crescent marks from his nails on his skin again. “It’s so much harder now...”

“That’s because it’s the start of the cycle, the lowest ebb.” The Doctor smiled, clearly happy to be proved right. “But I think you’ll be able to learn. If you want. The ability should be stronger around the end of the loop cycle like it was the first time, and at that point you might even be able to slip between physically, like you did today. But it should become easier to control the pain, and amplify the ability, with practice.”

Ianto stared at him, wordless. “Practice.”

“It’s a difficult art; humans aren’t born with that ability – hence the headaches, and general cognitive dissonance when you do it – but other species are.” Even the Doctor was staring at Ianto now, in apparent fascination.

“...Do you have it?” ventured Ianto.

“Timelords have a different, weaker form. We can see different streams and threads of time, but not in so much detail. So no...” he tilted his head, face close to Ianto’s. “You’re not like me, and you’re not like Jack, either. You, Ianto Jones, are something entirely new.”

“I...”

The Doctor drew back, visibly collecting himself. “...Anyway. Some cultures have tried to train people in it, taking years and years to train their masters to slip between time threads. There’s never been a human one before. But, given that you’ve got a lot of time on your hands now...”

“But…!” said Tosh, interrupting excitedly, “...but think of what could be done with that ability! You could monitor the ongoing consequences of a single action in every timeline, from now until the end of the universe! You could learn so much about the world! Oh my god, Ianto, you _need_ to let me test this!”

“You really could know everything” mused Gwen, wide-eyed as she thought about the implications.

“Like I said” said the Doctor. “It’s an art.” He wagged a finger at Ianto, suddenly serious. “A few rules, though. No messing with causality too much, especially if time travel is involved. And more importantly, no using it to be cruel.” He frowned. “If you do that, please understand that I would need to stop you. And I will.”

Jack bristled a little. “Ianto wouldn’t do that” he said. “He’s…” he broke off, unable to fit the enormity of what he wanted to say into simple words. “He’s... good” he managed, slightly choked up.

The Doctor turned to look at him for a long moment, then burst into a bright smile. “...Glad to hear it” he said. “...Oh! One more thing. Ianto, do you have a watch I could borrow for a moment?”

Ianto frowned, and then slowly drew his stopwatch out of his pocket and handed it over. “Why...”

But the Doctor ignored him, taking the watch and clicking it open, sonic-ing it briefly before handing it back.

Ianto clicked the watch open, frowning. “What did you–”

“I tied its function to your looped timeline. The hand will go once around, every six months and eight days. It should help you to always know where in the loop cycle you are.”

Ianto blinked. “...Um. Thank you” he said, putting it in his pocket.

“Alright then!” said the Doctor briskly. “Well, if that’s everything I’d better be going. Normally, you know, I’d stay a while and let the Tardis refuel from the Rift, but _someone’s_ only gone and closed the thing–”

But Jack couldn’t help it any longer, rising to his feet abruptly. “Doctor! Wait.”

The Doctor turned back to him. “Hmm?”

“Is there...” Jack darted a look at Ianto, who had tensed and was staring at him intently. Jack let out his breath. “Is there any way to undo this? Please. I know you said you couldn’t fix me, but for Ianto...”

The Doctor sighed, coming over to stand in front of him; for once, he really did seem hundreds of years old, the weariness in his face too familiar to Jack. “Your situation is still the same, Jack. Nothing I or anyone can do will change that. Ianto...” he looked over at Ianto. “Maybe, _maybe_ , if one day you found another Rift, somewhere out there… they do exist, you know, I found one just recently. Odd little partially sentient bubble world on the edge of the universe. I really wouldn’t recommend that one.” He winced, concentrating on the matter at hand again. “Anyway. If you found another Rift and repeated what you did today, you could undo the connected timelines, put it back to how it was. ‘Course, it could go wrong in a great many horrible ways, but there’s a chance it _could_ work. Especially with thorough planning, maybe by someone with a good grasp of consequences and alternate timelines...” he smiled wryly at Ianto.

“And what would happen to me then?” asked Ianto, voice stiff.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. “Well, you’d go back to how you were before, of course. Start aging again where you left off, and the symptoms and the abilities would both go away. One hundred per cent normal human, hopefully able to have a normal human life after.”

“…But it involves finding another Rift.”

“Yes, that is the difficult part.”

Jack nodded, less than reassured. “Thank you, Doctor” he said, resisting the urge to grab Ianto and pull him close to his chest in a tight hug and sob into his shirt, all the warring emotions rising up in him at once; he couldn’t break down yet, there was still so much work to be done. And he couldn’t do that to Ianto, couldn’t do that to any of them… “I’m glad to know there are options, at least.”

The Doctor nodded, smiling at them all. “Well. Bye then, everyone. It’s been… more fun than last time, certainly.”

“Wait!” said Jack. “When will we see you again?”

The Doctor looked around at the faces of all of the team. Then, to Jack’s surprise, he reached forward and took both Jack’s hands, peering at the palms and turning them over to look at the backs. A moment later he put them down and smiled. “Soon. Apparently.” He turned to Ianto. “Keep him out of trouble, hmm? That goes for the rest of you too.”

Ianto walked forward and stood beside Jack, arms folded, more firm and certain than he’d been all day. “We will.”

* * *

Once the Doctor had gone the team scattered from the table again. Tosh and Lois were monitoring the news reports and police communications to make sure the cover story was spreading as intended. Everything seemed calm though, a quiet night descending over a city that would never know how close it had come to destruction.

In the opposite corner Owen was muttering to himself, poring over Ianto’s blood test results again and flicking through his notes for the hundredth time. Gwen and Rhys were sitting on chairs in the corner, talking in hushed voices with their heads close together, and Gray was asleep on the beaten-up sofa they’d salvaged from the Hub after Owen had given him another dose of painkillers for his injuries. Ianto had gone to take the last turn to shower and change out of his blood-drenched clothes. There was only one shower in the house, and normally Jack would have offered Ianto join him earlier. But given everything, Ianto had seemed like he needed some space; they hadn’t talked yet after all, and Jack found himself desperately unsure of where they stood after today’s revelations.

Except Ianto had been a long time now. Before, Jack had been distracting himself with tasks, pushing through everything that needed doing before they could all go home. Getting clean himself, changing his clothes which were hopelessly dirty and torn by the wood splinters that had killed him. His coat was bloody and badly damaged – again – but not a lost cause, Jack hoped. Ianto had fixed worse for him before. He’d ask him in the morning.

While the others were busy he’d driven out to the site again, watching from a distance as the emergency services picked through the ruins, but nothing seemed amiss. He’d also phoned Alice, to make sure Steven was okay after everything that had happened. Jack was relieved to hear he was fast asleep; it was a school night, after all. Safe, and undisturbed by dreams or visions.

After that Jack had gone from one of his team to the other, speaking to them quietly. Reassuring them, and reassuring himself that they were still here. Still with him, if not entirely unscathed by today’s events. He’d been filled in on everything that had happened mostly by Gwen and Tosh, and had clasped Lois’s hands in his, thanking her especially for her quick thinking. Despite how tired she was, it had made her glow with quiet pride.

But now Jack had all but run out of things to do, or at least the urgent sort that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. There were things he _could_ do of course; make a start on the incident report, go back through the database of CCTV feeds for the affected areas and triple check that everything was in order.

But he didn’t want to; he knew he’d never be able to concentrate on any of these things until he’d talked to Ianto.

Except Ianto still wasn’t back.

Jack only realised he'd begun pacing when Gwen made a tutting noise at him. “Just go bloody find him, rather than wearing a hole in the floor. This place is smaller than the Hub, he can’t’ve gone far.”

Jack was about to argue out of reflex, but instead he let out his breath and nodded. “I’ll be back to say goodnight” he said, leaving the room in a hurry.

He started in the showers, but as he’d suspected, Ianto wasn’t there. Then he went to the archives, but found the room dark, Ianto and Lois’s desks empty. Pushing aside the pang of guilt at the memory of drugging Ianto and laying him down on the sofa earlier, he carried on his search.

He found Ianto on the roof.

Climbing out of the open trapdoor from Myfanwy’s loft, the chilly night breeze hit Jack's skin at the same moment he recognised the silhouette against the cloudy, light-pollution drenched sky. Ianto was standing near the edge, on the narrow strip of flat roof beside the sloped Victorian gable. He didn’t turn around when Jack came up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, and he didn’t seem surprised by his presence.

Jack turned and let his eyes run over Ianto, taking him in. He looked much better after washing off the blood and changing into a spare pair of jeans and a grey knitted jumper, his hair drying in the chilly wind up here.

Jack looked out over the city, then back at Ianto. “See? Didn’t I tell you you’d come to appreciate a good rooftop?”

“What can I say” said Ianto. “Must be you rubbing off on me.”

Jack smiled. “I do enjoy doing that.”

They subsided into silence for a moment more, as Jack carried on watching Ianto.

Under the scrutiny, Ianto turned and took his stopwatch out of his pocket, showing it to Jack. “Doesn’t work as a stopwatch anymore after what he did to it. I checked.”

“It’ll help you keep track of this stuff” said Jack, peering at the face. The hand that normally ticked around with the seconds was frozen at just a hair’s breadth away from the vertical. Indicating the beginning of the time loop, Jack assumed. “We can get you a new one, for official use. Or, at least that’ll be what I’ll write on the expenditure report.” Jack managed to waggle his eyebrows, but even he had to admit it was a half-hearted effort.

“You do your own expenditure reports now?” said Ianto mildly. “That’s news to me.”

Jack laughed. “Hey, it’s been known to happen.”

Ianto rolled his eyes fondly. But Jack could see the edge in it, the lingering tension in his stance. There was still so much hanging between them. “Hey.” Jack nudged Ianto gently in the side. “About that talk we were gonna have...”

Ianto looked sideways at him and Jack saw that his gaze had got colder, closed off as though a wall of protective glass had come down over his heart. He looked as though he were steeling himself against the bitter taste of words he didn’t want to say. “Look, Jack” he said. “I just wanted you to know...” he paused.

“...What?”

“I feel… guilty” admitted Ianto, the wind blowing his hair. “I didn’t mean for things to work out this way.”

“Oh Ianto, neither did I” said Jack in a rush, reaching to pull Ianto into his arms. “And I am so, so–”

“ _No_ , Jack, hear me out, please, because I don’t… know if I’ll be able to say this again” he said through gritted teeth, pulling back.

Jack lowered his arms, giving Ianto space. “...Okay.”

“Okay” said Ianto. “Okay, okay... I just… don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me, Jack. I love you, and I know you love me, but forever is… a _long_ time. And...” he bit his lip. “That’s okay. I always hoped you’d find someone else, after… after I was gone.” He laughed, a little teary, a little rasping. “Didn’t like the idea of you with someone else in specifics, but in general, you know… well. You’re _you_. I know sticking with one person would stifle you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m rambling now. But I suppose my point is, this doesn’t need to change anything. I mean, it does, it changes everything, absolutely _everything_ for me, but… for us, I mean. The fact that I won’t die, doesn’t mean you can’t go and find someone else. If… if that’s what you want, and… I’m prepared for that, Jack.” He held up his hands in a way that was probably intended to be placating, at the sight of Jack’s expression. “I don’t mean now! I just mean, someday, if you want…” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m doing this badly. Look, I just mean our timelines are already tangled up forever, apparently. There’s no reason you have to tie yourself up to me for eternity. You can leave, if you want, though obviously, I’d be… um.”

“Ianto...”

“If you… if you get sick of me, you know you can–”

“ _Ianto!_ ”

Ianto broke off, one nervous hand frozen in the middle of raking through his hair. He was staring at Jack with apprehensive eyes that almost broke his heart.

“Ianto” said Jack, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his mounting panic. “Are… are you saying you don’t want to be with me?”

“No! No, no, of course I’m not, Jack, I...” he sucked in a huge, shuddering breath that rattled in his chest, putting his weight on the stone gable. Without thinking, Jack stepped forward and took Ianto in his arms, letting him lean on him as he lowered them both until they were sitting on the roof, leaning sideways against the parapet. Jack didn’t take his arms off Ianto’s shoulders, and he felt the movement as Ianto sighed deeply. “Look” Ianto continued. “What you said to the Doctor, about wanting to undo this… you don’t have to say it now, but I know you’d get tired of me eventually. And… and that’s _okay_.” He had to force out the word. “Eternity’s a long time, Jack. I only ask that you remember me, because I know I’ll remember you.” He smiled, wiping self-conscious tears off his cheek with the back of his hand. “Only seems fair, you know.”

“Ianto, you really think I’d just...” he tailed off.

“I know, I know, I’m getting ahead of myself. But that’s what I do, Jack. I plan for the future. And suddenly there’s rather more of it than I'd anticipated.”

Jack’s mouth opened. “...Ianto” he said, tears coming to him now. “Whatever I did to make you think I wouldn’t love you then...” belatedly, he remembered Ianto’s words from a minute ago. “Wait. You think that... because I asked the Doctor how to undo this?”

Ianto shrugged, muttering something under his breath.

Jack frowned, almost offended. “Ianto, you _know_ what immortality is like for me. What it’s done to me, what I’ve suffered. And I never, ever, _ever_ wanted that for you. Is that completely clear? No other reason, least of all because I thought… I don’t know, because of some idea that I’d get sick of you one day. Who do you think I am?”

“I think you’re you” said Ianto. “It’s nothing personal–”

“Uh, yeah it is!”

“–it’s just that you’re meant for more than me” said Ianto, shrugging. “Greater things, greater loves. It would be a shame otherwise.”

“Listen. You don’t understand eternity yet. Not your fault, you haven’t had to actually confront it, _live_ with it. But–”

“I have” argued Ianto. “I think about it quite a lot actually, with you around.”

“...Alright, fine. But, Ianto” said Jack firmly, taking Ianto’s face between his hands so he was forced to meet his eye. “Eternity is _terrifying_ : cold and empty, too much of it to ever think of filling in, by definition. But there’s _no one_ I’d rather share this endless universe with. Do you understand that? And the thought of you going through all the pain I’ve been through... it hurts me, like you wouldn’t believe. It kills me. But… if I was being selfish? If you didn’t have to suffer like I have, I _would_ choose to keep you close to me, forever. Every time, without question.”

Ianto’s lips had parted in surprise. “I...”

“But as usual, neither of us were given a choice” continued Jack. “So, I guess at least I can be glad I’ve got you.”

Ianto stared at him for a long, long moment, looking into his eyes as though trying to see the truth of his words.

And then it was as though a dam had broken; Ianto was reaching for him, shuffling forward where they sat on the cold rooftop to pull Jack into his arms, holding him so close as he shook and cried. “ _Jack_ ” Ianto sobbed into his shoulder, hiccuping and coughing. “Oh, god, Jack, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t know what this’ll mean, I… I… I’m sorry I ever thought you’d…”

“Shh, shh” said Jack. “It’s okay” he said, even though it wasn’t. “It’ll take a while to sink in, but...” he bit his lip, feeling his own trembling sobs begin to rise. He rubbed Ianto’s back, feeling the warmth of him through his thin jumper. “...But you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” He repeated it over and over again until the words sounded meaningless even to his own ears, rubbing Ianto’s lower back in slow circles and rocking him gently.

Finally, Ianto’s sobs subsided and he drew back, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve and looking at the damp patch with distaste. “Ugh” he sniffed. “I think that’s the existential crisis done with, for now at least.”

“There’ll be more of those” warned Jack. “They tend to come in waves.”

“Yeah, I assumed.” Ianto grimaced. “There’s the whole issue of not ageing, and of what the hell I tell my family, and, oh god...” he visibly rallied himself, forcibly uncurling his hands from their fists. Jack could see the marks his nails had left. They both watched as Ianto held his hands between them, and the bruised, reddened marks faded before their eyes. Ianto seemed both horrified and fascinated by the sight, before he closed his hands again, dropping them to his lap. “You know what, I think I’m done for tonight. I’ll move all that stuff forward to the next scheduled existential crisis.”

“Planning ahead” said Jack with a nod. “I like it.” He pulled Ianto into a loose hug, stroking his fingers gently through the back of Ianto’s hair. “And hey, apparently you got some kind of super power out of it, so it’s not all bad.”

“Oh yeah. I did try that, before you came out. Didn’t see anything different except I think it was raining in the other timeline… also I nearly fell off the roof.”

Jack winced. “Try again in a few months? And on flat ground, just in case.”

“Mmm” said Ianto, leaning into Jack’s embrace. “Everything really is going to change, isn’t it?” he said, into the crook of Jack’s shoulder.

Jack kissed his temple, the side of his jaw, his cheek, his nose, the corner of his lips, skin damp from both their tears. “Well, I hope not _everything_ ” he said against Ianto’s mouth.

He felt Ianto smile before kissing him. “No,” he said when they broke apart, an undercurrent of heat in his voice. “I don’t suppose it will.”

Jack smiled, but he felt Ianto shiver against him as the wind picked up. “C’mon” he said, pulling himself to his feet and offering Ianto a hand up. “Much as I’d like to get us both naked up here on this roof, trust me, hypothermia really sucks.”

“Much as I’d like to take you up on that, I _am_ bloody freezing” admitted Ianto, and Jack laughed as he rubbed Ianto’s hands between his own to keep their fingers from going numb from the windchill.

By the time they’d climbed down from the trapdoor and descended into the house again, they were met with an odd hush. Jack had been used to spending a lot of time alone in the Hub after hours, but here less so; he’d been living in Ianto’s flat these last few months, and when they worked nights the others were usually in too.

When they entered the window room, they saw why it was so quiet. Gray was still sound asleep on the sofa, but since Jack had left, Gwen had also dropped off across three chairs with a pillow under her back. Her head rested on Rhys’s lap while he dozed too, head falling sideways onto his shoulder. Lois was slumped over the table with her head pillowed on her arms, hair spilling to the side. Someone had placed a spare blanket over her. Tosh was sitting on the floor with her laptop on her knee, amongst a large mass of cushions that she had apparently gathered like a nest. Owen was curled up in the middle of them fast asleep, Tosh’s hand carding softly through his hair in time to his light snores.

As they came in Tosh glanced up, holding a finger to her lips. “Didn’t want to go home until you came back” she whispered by way of explanation, closing the laptop quietly and placing it to the side, careful not to wake Owen.

“Oh” said Ianto, coming to sit down beside her. “Sorry.”

She smiled sleepily. “It’s okay” she said. “...I don’t think any of us wanted to let the others out of their sight, honestly.” Jack watched as Tosh reached out and squeezed Ianto’s hand. “...You okay?”

Ianto made a face. "Define _okay_...”

She laughed softly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Jack came over and knelt down beside her for a moment, looking around at them all sleeping. Carefully, he got up again and picked up a pillow, squishing it in behind Rhys’s head against the wall, and pulled up the jacket Gwen was using as a blanket, tucking it more securely around her. Then came back and swept a lock of hair off Gray’s forehead, that looked like it would tickle each time he breathed out.

He came over to Ianto. “We could stay too” he said. “There’s some spare blankets in storage, and there are the cushions from the sofa in the archives...”

Ianto nodded. “Yeah” he said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

When Jack came back with the bedding, Tosh and Ianto were talking in soft voices in the silent room, their backs turned to him. For a moment, he just stood in the doorway and listened.

“So, I think even without the Rift, we’ve still got a lot of work to do” Tosh was saying. “Maybe even more, now.”

“Yeah. Twenty-first century and all... I have it on good authority every alien and their mother will be trying it.”

Tosh giggled. “Everything changes indeed. And besides, without Torchwood One...” she paused. “Oh. Sorry.”

Ianto shrugged. “It’s fine. And you’re right” he said, clearly lost in the past for a moment, before shaking his head. “We’ve got a lot on our plates, I’d imagine.”

“Plus we still have to finish the salvage and renovation of the Hub” said Tosh.

Ianto visibly brightened. “Oh yes. Sounds like just the job for a determined archivist who as of very recently, has a _lot_ of extra time on his hands.”

She laughed. “...True. But also, don’t think you’re getting out of my clutches that easily. I was serious about wanting to test this new timeline ability of yours, you know.”

Jack couldn’t see Ianto’s face, but he could hear the good-natured eyeroll. “To destruction, no doubt.”

Tosh laughed, hugging him from the side. “I’m glad you’re alive, Ianto.”

“...Me too, Tosh. Me too.” He paused only a moment more and then turned his head, voice a loud whisper. “Jack, I know you’re standing there listening. Come to bed so we can all get some sleep.”

Jack pouted. “You’ve changed your tune.”

“Well, it’s been a long day.” He shuffled away from Tosh to make space for Jack and the bedding. “Dying and coming back is exhausting.”

“Tell me about it.”

Tosh laughed, already curling up with Owen and pulling a blanket around him. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Sleep tight” said Ianto, letting Jack settle cushions around him, wrapping him in a blanket and putting his arms around Ianto’s waist. But Tosh was already asleep, the sound of her breathing joining the soft overlapping sleep sounds of the rest of the family Jack had made for himself, bit by bit, along the way.

Jack curled up behind Ianto, peering at the familiar glowing display of his vortex manipulator in the dim light before he entered the command to switch off the lights. When he closed the leather cover, it was only mostly dark. The room was still partially lit by the blinking machines and computers, the streetlight filtering through the large window, the occasional car headlights passing by outside.

Jack closed his eyes, face against the back of Ianto’s neck, pressing a kiss there.

And before long, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's reference to what happened with Saviour relates to the events of the Big Finish story Broken, which features Jack and Ianto's first kiss, for anyone who hasn't listened to that! (And if you haven't I highly, highly recommend it, it's one of my very favourite BF stories for multiple reasons.) But here at Beleriandings Fanfic Enterprises we try to be inclusive of our non-BF-listening audience by explaining references to the audio material :P
> 
> Anyway, this is the end of this arc of the story....I hope you enjoyed it! The next few chapters (not yet quite sure how many it'll be) will form the final arc of the story. I'm very excited about what I've got planned for the final few chapters though! So, until then <3


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for this chapter one might want to look at a summary of Miracle Day, if you haven't watched it. [The one on wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torchwood:_Miracle_Day#Synopsis) is pretty good. ....note, this chapter doesn't actually deal with the events of Miracle Day because it makes me tired and also makes my soul hurt to watch it. It takes place the year after Miracle Day, which we can assume happened in between the last chapter and this one, in some version consistent with this AU. But I do enjoy the potential of the new characters introduced (assuming SOMEONE doesn't keep KILLING them) so it might be useful to know who Esther Drummond, Rex Matheson, and Dr Vera Juarez are. Also Angelo Colasanto (and his backstory with Jack) gets a few name drops.  
> Anyway yes I do hope you enjoy this chapter! This is mostly very sappy and self-indulgent, also please note the new relationship tag added to this fic because I have one braincell and it says "Lois and Esther deserve to kiss" on it.

_**[2:15pm, 17 th July 2012]** _

Lois stood next to Tosh at the airport arrivals gate, holding the sign and trying to keep from bouncing on the balls of her feet as they waited. The flight had arrived on time – she’d checked – and already a few passengers had come through, leaving the departures gate with their suitcases in twos and threes.

She darted a glance sideways at Tosh, who was smiling. “Not long now.”

Lois nodded, holding up the sign a little higher; neither she nor Tosh were very tall – though Tosh was wearing heels today, which made her taller than Lois – and so it was possible they wouldn’t be able to see them once more people started coming through.

Lois sighed, transferring the sign to one hand, pulling her phone from her pocket and opening up her email app, reading over the last message she’d sent as Tosh drove them here in the SUV.

_**From:** Lois Habiba [lois.habiba@torchwood.co.uk]  
 **To:** Esther Drummond [edrummond@gmail.com]  
 **Date:** 17 Jul 2012, 13:23  
_ _**Subject:** Re: Fwd: Wedding trip logistics_

_Hi Esther,_

_I know you’re about to get on the flight, or maybe you already have! But either way, you probably won’t get this before you land in the UK. If you do, don’t feel you need to reply to it: we’ll see each other soon anyway._

_In answer to your question, the last touches to the Hub renovation are finally finished! And with only a few days to go until the wedding, the timing was good too. Now we can all enjoy the day in peace – aliens permitting of course, but that’s a given around here. The only noteworthy incident since my last message was that Myfanwy was in a strop on Wednesday and tried to eat one of the contractors working on the new plaster by Jack’s office. I gather she was unsettled after moving into her elaborate new roost because it didn’t smell right yet. But that’s dinosaurs for you, I suppose. Anyway, it could have ended a lot worse, but luckily Ianto was able to step in and calm her at the last moment. The plasterer had a nasty scare though: it’s probably for the best he was one of the ones were going to have to retcon anyway._

_Other than that, things have been relatively normal around here. Anwen caught a bad cold two weeks ago and Gwen caught it off her and was off sick for a few days, but they both seem to be a lot better now. Owen would probably have argued the point if he was here, but Jack’s theory is Gwen shook it off out of pure determination to make it to the wedding. Easy to say for a man who’s immune to the common cold, I suppose. Anyway, Gwen is fine now, and the team all send their love._

_And since you’re on the way here, I suppose I just wanted to say, there were so many things that we didn’t talk about when we were in America last year. And I understand why! We’d only just met then, and besides, we were all a bit busy, what with the Miracle and everything else. And then after, we left for the UK and I wanted to tell you things, but somehow it never happened. And then of course we got to know each other better in the time apart. What started with emails about the logistics of all this, the cleanup, information control and the aftermath of the Colasanto case, Torchwood’s help when you and Rex left the CIA, and then, finally, getting the flights and arrangements and visas and everything sorted for this trip… well. I hope I’m not imagining something that isn’t there when I say that I think it’s changed into something else now. If I am, of course you can tell me! I value you too much as a friend, Esther, to lose you over my dumb feelings, so if you don’t feel the same please tell me when you’re here. But if you do feel the same, I wouldn’t mind if you told me that too. We can dance together at the wedding, if you like._

_Anyway, that was most of what I wanted to say; say hello to the others for me, and if UK border forces give you any trouble, Owen has all the right Torchwood documentation and should be able to solve it easily. Weather conditions on arrival are expected to be exceptional; clear and sunny and warm, which is a relief for this week’s plans too. Anyway, all this is to say, have a lovely flight and I’ll see you soon._

_All the best,_

_Lois._

_P.S. The original point of this message was to say that Tosh and I will be waiting for you at arrivals. Glad I managed to tack that on the end. See you then, at last._

_**[View 84 more messages in this thread since 10 Dec 2011]** _

Lois sighed, putting her phone in her pocket and holding up the sign a little higher. It read:

_DRUMMOND  
HARPER  
JUAREZ  
MATHESON_

There was a small, discreet Torchwood logo in the bottom left-hand corner. Lois frowned, craning over the heads of the people who had started to mill in front of them, and–

“There they are!” Tosh said, waving enthusiastically. She glanced over at Lois, fairly bouncing with excitement, and Lois gave her a nod. She had to smile at the speed with which Tosh bounded off – quite an achievement in her heels – towards the group of four that had just spotted them and were heading their way.

Lois followed at a slightly slower pace; she’d waited for this for some time, and now it came to it she felt a twist of nervousness in her stomach, suddenly keen to buy herself a little extra time.

Apparently Tosh had no such qualms, because she immediately ran up to Owen, pulling him into a hug followed by a long, sweet kiss.

Lois couldn’t help but meet Esther’s eye as she came up behind Owen with Vera and Rex. Esther was smiling at her, and Lois smiled back before looking away abruptly when she realised she was blushing.

Her gaze caught on Tosh and Owen again. Tosh was grinning, hands on both sides of Owen’s face. “Oh my god, you got a _tan_?” she teased. “Or at least, you’re more light cream than printer paper. Well, now I’ve seen absolutely everything.”

Owen rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Missed you too, Tosh.”

She looked around at the four of them. “Welcome. I can’t believe it’s been _months!_ ” And then back to Owen. “Well? Did you successfully clean up America?”

Owen and Vera looked at each other, and burst out laughing. “Kind of?” said Owen.

“Excellent, then you can start on the NHS. It’s absolute chaos since the Miracle ended.”

Owen rolled his eyes, arm slipping further through Tosh’s. “Looks like I’ll be home a while then.”

“I hope so” said Tosh quietly.

“Owen was a great help on the medical side of things; I almost don’t want to give him back to Torchwood” said Vera with a smile.

“Even if Jack agreed to that, I don’t think I would” said Tosh.

“How the hell _is_ Jack?” said Rex, coming up and shaking Tosh’s hand warmly, as Vera came forward and kissed Lois on both cheeks.

“The happiest I’ve ever seen him. He’s getting married, after all.”

“Oh? I would’ve thought he’d be pretty stressed by now, with how hard it’s been trying to arrange this damn wedding for a time when the world’s not about to end.”

“Have you _met_ Jack recently?” said Owen. “I video called him the other day. Thought he’d been possessed by a fucking confetti demon, or the ghost of an obnoxious, lovesick teenager. I was halfway to googling how to do an exorcism.” But for all of that, there was a smile on his face. “God help Ianto, who’ll presumably have to put up with actually being married to the man.”

Tosh laughed, her arm slipping around Owen’s waist. “I think Jack’s just too happy about the fact that it’s finally happening at all to be stressed. It’s been a long time coming. Ianto, on the other hand… well, he sends his apologies for not coming with us today. Something about needing to go over the place settings with Gwen again.”

“Poor Ianto” said Esther. “I bet he’s been trying to do all the organisational stuff himself.”

Lois nodded. The impression she'd got was that Ianto wouldn’t have minded what sort of ceremony they had, or even none at all; he really didn’t like to make a show of himself. He was doing it all for Jack, really. And when Ianto set his mind to doing something for Jack he was all in, to a degree that was slightly intimidating to witness.

“We’ve been helping” said Lois. “He’d run himself ragged otherwise.”

“Give yourself more credit, Lois” said Tosh, letting go of Owen to give Esther a hug. Lois didn’t miss the way Tosh subtly nudged Esther to the side after, towards her. “You’ve been more help than anyone.”

But Tosh’s words faded into the background as Lois’s eyes met Esther’s for a long moment before they both smiled, pulling each other into a long hug. When they broke apart, Esther didn’t move away from her again, the two of them standing touching shoulders at the edge of the group. “I got your email” said Esther, quietly.

Lois caught her breath. “You mean, the one from earlier...”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And–” she broke off as she felt Esther take her hand between them, giving her fingers a brief squeeze.

Lois’s felt herself smile involuntarily; that was enough of an answer for now, at least.

She looked over at the others. Tosh had suddenly started rummaging in her jacket pocket, turning to Owen again as the group started walking towards the exit. “Oh! Got a little welcome home present for you” said Tosh. She held up a small silver disk on a cord as they got to the car park.

Owen’s face lit up. “My time lock!”

“You would not _believe_ the number of weevil dens we had to comb through to get this back” said Tosh with a shudder. “But it still works. I made them basically indestructible for a reason.”

He put the cord around his neck, then rummaged in his jacket pocket and held a matching silver disk out to her. “Then you can have yours back” he said. “Thanks for the loan.”

“You’re welcome” she said, dipping her head to let him put the pendant on her. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to giving this thing a few more experimental upgrades.”

“Oh god, you’re shifting into mad scientist mode already...”

She winked, batting his arm playfully. “Hey, save _that_ for later.” She looked around at all the others, only blushing a little as they reached the SUV. “Well. Let’s go home, then.”

* * *

After Tosh had driven them back to Cardiff, it hadn’t taken her long to bundle Owen and his luggage into her car and drive him home to their flat – in rather a hurry, by any standards.

Thus, it had fallen to Lois to show their American guests around the newly renovated Hub.

To her surprise, Ianto greeted them from behind the desk of the tourist office, the walls bright with new paint. He’d been frowning down at a stack of papers, but looked up and smiled warmly when the four of them entered. “Ah! Right on time.” He stood up and came around the desk, inclining his head courteously. “Welcome to Cardiff.”

“Ianto!” said Vera. “How are you doing?”

“All the better for the new course of medication you and Owen put together” he said. “Thank you, it’s helped a lot with the breathing issues at the start of the loop.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Helping you has been our little side-project, when we weren’t dealing with piecing together the remains of the US healthcare system, testifying in court against every corrupt piece of shit from the pharmaceutical industry, and avoiding four separate assassination attempts. It’s actually been a really nice diversion.”

He laughed. “Glad to help, I suppose.”

“Okay, enough medical stuff for the moment” said Rex, coming up beside Ianto and peering down at the papers in front of him. “That’s the Colasanto file, right?”

Ianto nodded. “I was just reading over how you and Esther sorted things out. Thank you, I owe you both for that.”

“It’s nothing” said Esther. “You saved my life, so it was the least we could do. Not to mention what Gwen did for my sister.”

“Well, we’ll call it even then” said Ianto, smiling. “Lois, would you mind doing the tour? I want to finish reading this report.” He narrowed his eyes. “Also, editing that seating plan again. I do _not_ want my sister at the same table as Owen… they both know too much.”

Lois laughed. “Of course” she said, as Ianto pressed the button below the counter that opened the door down to the Hub.

* * *

Several hours later, when the tour was done it fell to Lois to show the three to the hotel she’d booked for them. After checking in, Rex and Vera had gone to get dinner at a place Tosh had recommended in town, which left Lois with Esther in the hotel bar. Currently, she was waiting for their drinks while Esther chose them a table.

After so many months of emails – starting as practical conversations about logistics, and slowly, ever so slowly, turning to something else different – this all felt a little surreal.

Esther’s table, as it turned out, was on the roof terrace overlooking the bay. The sky wasn’t quite dark yet, and the lights of the city sparkled on the water. As Lois came over with the bottle of Sauvignion Blanc and two glasses, Esther looked up at her and smiled, nodding her thanks as Lois poured for them both.

“It’s pretty” said Esther, nodding out at the water. “I hadn’t realised.”

Lois chuckled. “You say that, but tonight’s more the exception than the rule. You probably picked the one single week of the year when you can actually sit in the outside seating without being drenched by a cloud of mist and drizzle.”

Esther laughed. “Well, I guess I was lucky then.” She took a sip from her glass, leaning forward on the table. “...You know, I still can’t believe you guys have a _real_ secret underground base. Honestly, some part of me still thought Jack was bullshitting about that, until I saw it for myself today.”

“Well, I haven’t seen much of it either” she confessed. “Jack recruited me two and a half years ago, right after it got blown up. It’s taken until… basically last week to fix it all up properly.”

“Oh, right, so getting your secret base _blown up_ is somehow meant to be _less_ insane than having a secret base in the first place?”

Lois laughed, taking a sip of her drink. “Point taken.”

Esther grinned, holding up her fingers to count. “Also, your boss is a time-traveling immortal who’s worked there since the nineteenth century, his boyfriend is also immortal and living on a time loop and can see alternate realities sometimes, and his brother spent most of his life kidnapped by aliens from the future?”

“Well, when you put it like _that–_ ”

“And then there’s Tosh, who invented a way to stop time and can hack into the Pentagon like it’s nothing! Owen apparently came back from the dead one time, and Gwen is a basically the hero of an action movie? And then there’s _you_ ” said Esther, before Lois could interject. “You were a PA before, yeah? Working for the Home Office.”

“Yeah” said Lois, rubbing her thumb over the condensation on the side of her glass, leaving a clear trail. She smiled faintly. “Feels like a long time ago now...”

“I heard what you did back then, though” said Esther, her voice serious suddenly. “Owen told me, when he was staying with us. You weren’t one of them – Torchwood I mean – then. But you still helped them.”

“...I was very, very scared at the time” admitted Lois quietly, taking a long sip from her glass. “I _knew_ what I was doing was espionage, treason, and if I got caught I’d get thrown in jail. In fact, I _did_ get thrown in jail. I’d probably still be there if Jack hadn’t pulled the right strings.” She frowned.

“But you did it _anyway_ ” said Esther. “You didn’t do it because you were… oh, I don’t know, an alien-hunting hero yet–”

Lois felt herself blush. “I don’t know if I’d call myself–”

“–You did it because it was _right_ , and because you couldn’t live with yourself if you did anything else.”

Lois looked up and met Esther’s eye; she was staring up at her, the patio light that had just come on beside them her casting her face in light and shade, and the way she was looking at Lois… her hand was on the table between them, next to Lois’s own.

Lois took a steadying breath. “Yeah” she said. “Yeah, I did.”

“Do you know how badass that is?” said Esther, smiling. “After the Miracle was over, when Rex and I left the CIA and started again as investigative journalists, that took a lot of courage. More than maybe anything else I’ve done. During the Miracle I was _scared_ , so scared all the time. But you’re so _brave_ , and...” she faltered.

Lois’s voice cracked. “And...?”

Esther shook her head, smiling. “I’m just… glad I know someone like you, Lois. Even if most of our interactions have been over email, from opposite sides of the world.”

“Well, that hardly matters” said Lois, trying to keep the breathlessness from her voice. “Dealing with aliens all the time kind of puts it into perspective, I suppose.”

Esther laughed. “Huh, I guess it must.”

And that was it: that was all Lois needed to pluck up her courage – remembering what Esther had said a moment ago about her being brave, taking strength from it – and moved her hand a few inches to the left, clasping Esther’s across the table.

And from then, everything seemed simple and clear.

Sure enough, Esther leaned across the table and kissed her as the streetlights started to come on in the road below. The kiss was gentle at first, but there was something behind it. Something born slowly over the course of months apart yet growing closer together every day. A hunger and a heat and a promise of more – or at least, a hope of it – just below the surface.

When they finally broke apart, Lois could see Esther blushing. She felt a shiver run through her, half at the sight and half at the cool night breeze against her bare shoulders; she hadn’t thought to bring her cardigan when they came out here.

Esther seemed to notice. “Do you… want to come inside?” she ventured, taking another sip of wine. “The hotel room you booked me is really nice...”

“Well actually, I only phoned the hotel to make the bookings. It was Ianto who picked the place, he knows the city really…” she tailed off, opened and closed her mouth, then broke into a big smile. “Yeah” she said. “Um, yeah. I mean. Let’s do that.”

* * *

Gray hadn’t realised how much he'd missed the Hub until they’d come back. It wasn’t the same as it was, of course; the interior had been remodeled considerably, if only because the chaotic mishmash of interlinked rooms built over – and in some cases through – each other over the course of a century and a half would have been much, much more of a headache to recreate than practically any other design. It smelled mostly of new paint and plaster, rather than the dampness and metal and food smells and unidentified chemicals that had characterised it before. But in its essence, he thought, it sort of felt the same. Or would in time, at any rate.

Currently, the floor was covered by stacks of crates that had to go down to the archives; Ianto had grumbled about that, but had eventually conceded that it was such a large job that getting everything back in its right, properly labelled place would be better to start after he got back from his honeymoon.

Gray didn’t know what he’d do without Jack and Ianto around. He’d already agreed to feed and look after Myfanwy – though he did that a lot anyway – and smiled when Jack had joked that he should keep the rest of them from staging a coup while he was gone. And Gray knew it was only two weeks; probably the first holiday either of them had taken in longer than Gray had been here, certainly, and much deserved. He knew that. But he still wondered what he’d do without them.

Right now, Gray was thinking about it while lying on his back on the roof of the Millennium Centre, his head pillowed on his folded arms as he watched the moon beginning to rise into the summer sky. He understood why his brother liked it so much up here; when he lay back like this he could almost imagine he was back home, blocking out the sounds of the city and pretending that instead he could hear only the shushing of the waves against the breakwater. Closing one eye and pretending there were two moons in the sky, rather than just one.

It wasn’t so hard to imagine home anymore. It didn’t bring stabs of pain with it these days.

But for all that, Gray found himself thinking less and less about Boeshane. Since they’d come back from America – and that had been different again, a whole different landscape, many of them in fact, and he'd found himself wishing for the first time to be able to see more of this planet – he’d hardly thought of home at all.

Instead, he’d found himself thinking about the universe; about how big it was, and how cruel it was, but how sometimes, just _sometimes_ , it was kind. About how he’d been saved by these people he’d come to call his new family, not just once but over and over again. About Jack and all he did, all the people he saved without asking for thanks. All he would continue to save long after Gray was gone.

Gray sat up, his hand going to his pocket and around the small object inside. He’d had it for a while now, waiting for the right time.

Not long now, he thought. Not long at all.

* * *

_**[10:40am, 21 st July 2012 – The day of the wedding]** _

“Anwen! Come back here right now, young lady!”

Gwen cursed silently to herself as her daughter ignored her, weaving her way through the early, milling guests just starting to arrive in the foyer. It seemed like no sooner had Anwen learned to walk, she’d learned to run. Rhys had teased Gwen that it came from her side, with all the running Gwen had done while she was pregnant with her.

But whatever the reason, it meant she spent a lot less time these days chasing after runaway aliens, and a lot more chasing after a runaway two-year-old.

And it wasn’t going to get any easier soon, Gwen thought. At least there’d probably be a bit of a respite, but still. She must be mad.

Anwen had the advantage over her, Gwen thought, because she wasn’t wearing heels. The last time Gwen had worn heels had been that infiltration mission in America, and she remembered how that had gone.

She caught sight of Anwen again, yelling happily as she ran for the door at the other end of the corridor to the right; some sort of back room, a dead end. Putting on a spurt of speed despite her shoes, Gwen was right behind Anwen as she ducked through, giggling.

“Anwen Cooper-Williams, what did I tell you about–” Gwen broke off, looking around the room. “ _Oh_. Sorry” she said to Ianto, Rhiannon and Glenda, who were all looking at her as Glenda fussed with Ianto’s tie. Gwen scooped up Anwen determinedly, keeping her grabby toddler fingers off the soft satin fabric of Rhiannon’s dress, vivid dark red-pink.

It was only then that she realised there were tears in all three of their eyes.

“It’s okay” laughed Rhiannon, turning to Gwen and Anwen, being careful not to smudge her makeup as she wiped the corner of her eye. “God, I remember when mine were that age.”

“I remember when _you_ two were that age” said Glenda, grinning at both her children as Ianto rolled his eyes. She smiled at Gwen. “I still have this photo, Rhiannon must be, oh, six, and Ianto not far off your little one’s age, where they’re both covered in custard–”

“ _Mum_ ” Ianto said, sniffing. “It’s my wedding day, do we _have_ to?” but there was affection in it, and something like gratitude, or relief.

Some current seemed to run between their gazes, and Gwen surmised it was something to do with what they’d been talking about before she came in. And she thought she might be able to guess what that was. “Look, Ianto, I’ll see you at the wedding, alright?” she said hastily. She looked him up and down, taking in the elegant charcoal-grey morning suit with a slightly lighter shade of waistcoat, the subtle shimmer to the dark burgundy-red silk of his tie. He was standing awkwardly, as though he’d been caught off guard and didn’t know what to do with his hands. She patted him on the arm with her toddler-free hand. “You look good, Ianto” she said.

He nodded, relaxing just a little. “You too, Gwen.” He looked around from side to side in the corridor, with narrowed eyes. “So. What’re the chances of this being an alienless wedding, do we think?”

She laughed. “There’s been none yet, if that reassures you.”

He inclined his head. “Still time though.”

“Don’t you worry about that for now; I promise I’ll keep you posted if any turn up.”

He chuckled. “Always appreciated.”

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll talk later” she said, hoisting Anwen more firmly onto her hip before she could make another escape, and slipping back out the door.

* * *

Jack was lost in thought, straightening his dress uniform jacket in the mirror, when Gray came in behind him.

Gray was so quiet on his feet that Jack didn’t actually hear him enter the room; he only saw the door open in the mirror, a glimpse in the corner of his eye. He smiled broadly, turning around. “Gray! Come on in.”

Gray did, coming to stand beside him. “I’ve… got something for you. Uh. Early wedding present.”

Jack’s face broke into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

Gray rooted in his pocket and held out a small object in his palm. Jack squinted at it; it seemed to be an ordinary acorn.

He raised his eyebrows at Gray, questioning.

“Oh” said Gray. “ _Safrana._ Or, the closest I could get.”

Jack frowned for a moment. And then– “Oh!” he said, smiling and taking the acorn in his hand. “ _Oh_...” he couldn’t help but smile, holding it close in his hand. “Thank you, Gray.”

Gray shrugged. “I mean, I obviously couldn’t find the right kind, because they don’t exist on this planet. And I know it’s supposed to be an older relative, but you’re the oldest person I know, and since you don’t have–” he broke off, as Jack hugged him.

Jack had almost forgotten, was the thing. It had been an old Boeshane tradition from the earliest days of the colony, centuries before Jack had been born; on a person’s wedding day, an older blood relative was supposed to give them a safrana seed pod to carry with them through the ceremony. Safrana seed pods were tough and hardy, evolved specifically to drift through space until they found a new planet on which to grow. Surviving heat and cold, high levels of radiation and the barren vacuum of space until they found a new home, sometimes thousands of years later. The idea was, that the marriage would last like a safrana seed pod, surviving against all trials.

Back then, Javic Piotr Thane hadn’t set much store by tradition. Now, though, he wasn’t Javic anymore, reckless and arrogant and grieving, desperate to get offworld and leave it all behind. Now he was Captain Jack Harkness, and tradition made him feel truly part of something, for once in his long, long life.

He clasped the acorn in his palm. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the same. But it was as close as they’d get here on Earth, and for that he felt a sudden welling of love and gratitude.

He drew back from Gray, putting the acorn in his jacket pocket. Then he frowned. “It’s not acorn season” he said.

“No.” Gray shrugged. “I got it ages ago, months before the Miracle. Right when you and Ianto got engaged. I just sort of… kept it, until the right time.”

Jack laughed. “Well, it’s been a long time coming I guess.” He looked at both of them, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the mirror, almost exactly the same height. His own image was familiar – his RAF dress uniform buttoned up just so, polished shoes and his cap sitting neatly atop his combed hair – and he looked good today, if he did say so himself. But unchanged, at least in appearance. Gray, on the other hand, almost looked like a different person, dressed in a suit with a blue tie that Jack had had to help him with, his wild hair tamed somewhat for the occasion.

“You know, I’ve been married before” said Jack. “...I’m glad you’re here with me for this wedding, at least.”

Gray smiled at him in the mirror. “Me too” he said.

“...We’re both a long way from home, aren’t we?”

“Maybe.” Gray frowned at him, seeing his expression change. “What?”

“Nothing. Just... thinking about something Ianto said to me once.”

“What did he say?”

“It was a while ago, before the Rift closed, before Thames House. Before you came back to me, even. Ianto and I had only recently started dating… like, properly _dating_ I mean, rather than just–”

“Okay, I don’t need to know the detailed timeline of… all that.”

Jack smirked. “Fine. Well, that’s not the point anyway. The point is, he asked me whether I’d go home, if I could. I think he was still afraid of losing me actually, and to be fair, back then I suppose that was pretty understandable.”

“What did you say?”

Jack looked at Gray. “I told him no. I meant it, too; after what happened to you and Dad, and then Mom, there was nothing left for me at home except more pain. And anyway, much more of me was here than there.” Jack frowned. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Would you go home, if you could?”

Gray stared at the ceiling, thinking. “I don’t know” he said, brow slightly furrowed. “I don’t… really know if I know what home is, anymore.” He shrugged. “I got so used to not having one… and now, I have one again.” He narrowed his eyes. “I think...anywhere can be home, with the right people there. Otherwise it’s just a place.”

Jack broke into a smile. “I’m so glad to have you back” he said, voice a little hoarse.

Gray looked at him, face falling. “Jack...”

“What?”

But at that moment the door opened again, and Tosh popped her head through, hair sleekly pinned up. She was wearing a pale violet dress with her arms bare for the summer heat; it suited her, Jack thought.

“Jack!” she said. “Ten minutes. If you keep Ianto waiting he’ll murder you.” She thought for a moment. “Or, he probably won’t. But I will.”

Jack laughed, patting Gray on the shoulder and steering him and Tosh out into the corridor, pulling them both into his arms in an impulsive hug.

He drew back, straightening his cap and his sleeves, standing up instinctively straighter in his old uniform; it always had that effect on him.

“Well” he said, unable to keep the smile of his face. “Better go then, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked that! (more) soft wedding stuff next time! 
> 
> Anyway, I think my attitude to seasons 3 and 4 is perfectly summed up by their treatment in this fic, like:  
> \- Children of Earth: long, elaborate 10-chapter arc that lovingly reworks it into something I like better while still keeping the elements of it that are good character stuff and/or cool  
> \- Miracle Day: well it definitely HAPPENED, I guess,,,, but like, offscreen, because I simply Can't. May I offer you a Janto wedding, found family content, and some happy wlw instead in this trying time
> 
> ......Having said that though, I did actually work out an incomplete list of things I think happened in this AU's version of Miracle Day. I kept it intentionally vague in the main fic, but here's an incomplete list:  
> \- Ianto got angry and tried to punch Angelo when he learned what he did to Jack, but Jack held him back  
> \- He just yelled at/threatened him on his deathbed instead  
> \- The Colasanto family then tried to have Ianto thrown in jail but the others got him out  
> \- Esther and Rex quit the CIA to become investigative journalists  
> \- Rex does not end up immortal like in canon because I cannot for the life of me figure out how that even happened in canon. At least when I was writing immortal Ianto in the last chapter I actually put THOUGHT into it, oh my god MD writers  
> \- Gwen definitely still got to blow a lot of things up because that was fucking cool  
> \- Everyone was fine in the end
> 
> EDIT: by popular request, there's now [a side-story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208452) to this this fic, set between the previous chapter and this one, about Jack proposing to Ianto. Mind the rating, but if you want something to supplement this chapter.... yeah ;)


	34. Chapter 34

_Well_ , thought Ianto as he stood opposite Jack on the small dais in the registry office, _this was utterly unprecedented in how little had gone wrong_. They’d already signed all the documentation, and he ran his thumb over the smooth, hard lines of the ring on his finger – already warmed by Jack’s touch as he’d put it on him – barely daring to believe it.

The thing was: before his mother and sister had arrived, Ianto had spent the morning scanning through every timeline he could access, for any sign of trouble. It was about three-quarters of the way through the current loop cycle, and it was easier, but still. The fact that he hadn’t found anything wrong made him more suspicious than reassured.

(The fact that in most timelines this wedding didn’t seem to be happening at all didn’t bear thinking about, he’d decided early on.)

Ianto had been working on practicing his new-found ability since the Rift closed. It had only been during the Miracle when he’d really come to understand how useful it could be; being able to see alternate versions of reality came in handy, it turned out, when trying to uncover hidden dangers. It had been because of his vision of the alternative present that he’d been able to save Esther and Rex just as the morphic field dissipated, and since then he’d only grown more confident in navigating the different timelines. He and Tosh were working together on a system for cataloguing them and tracking them through time, and Ianto was even getting better at holding his consciousness in another time stream without feeling like he was going to collapse from the cognitive dissonance. There was a knack to it, which he was very slowly getting to grips with.

(One of the first times he’d used it properly had been when he’d stood with Jack and the others beside Angelo Colasanto’s bed. It had really been out of curiosity that Ianto had focused and let his awareness slip into the surrounding timestreams – he wasn’t good at controlling and directing it yet, but he felt as though perhaps, one day, he could be – to see another version of that room, that bed. Jack had been alone then, sitting by Angelo’s side. Ianto thought that even if he lived until the end of the universe, he’d never forget how Jack had sounded when he said, _“did you see him? Did you see Ianto?”_ And when Ianto had come back to his own world with a sharp jolt, he’d been angry, fierce and ready to break the world apart to make sure _his_ Jack would never, ever have to sound so broken again.)

Of course, this current loop cycle, Ianto’s main use of the ability had been nervously keeping track of all the ways the wedding might go horribly wrong. In this timeline, contrary to all his expectations, none of them seemed to have happened yet. It didn’t stop Ianto from worrying, though.

He was brought back to the present as Jack gave him a small, brilliant smile from the other side of the dais, as Harriet Jones ( _“–_ _proud to be_ _y_ _our celebrant for today._ _F_ _ormer Prime Minister and_ _Lord Chief Justice Harriet Jones–”, “Yes, we know who you are”_ ) had cleared her throat and looked from one to the other of them, with a proud smile.

“...Then I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss–”

But at that moment the doors at the far end of the room slammed open. “ _I object!_ ” shouted a familiar voice.

Ianto rolled his eyes so far back it almost hurt.

There was John Hart, standing in the double doorway with his hand on one hip, and a cocky grin on his face, a magnum of champagne resting jauntily over one shoulder.

Ianto gave a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The trouble with seeing different timelines was that it didn’t really let you see the future; only other versions of the present, which you could then extrapolate from if you were clever about it.

And some people, he thought, had both the ability to time travel, teleport, and had the _worst_ timing, neither of which were very easily predicted at all.

Jack was about to speak, and several people in the seats were getting to their feet; Gwen was already drawing her gun from her purse. But Ianto held up his hand, silencing Jack.

Determined, he kissed Jack hard, arm going around his neck and pulling him against his body. Then he let him go and turned to John. “You can’t object” he said. “Your timing’s off. We’re already married.”

John looked affronted, but also rather amused as he sauntered up the aisle. “I didn’t mean I object to you _marrying_ him. No, of course, marry him all you want, Eye-candy. Send me pictures from the honeymoon” said John with a wink. He sat down next to Gray in the front row of seats, shoving him over to sit on the corner of his chair. John ignored his murderous scowl, lounging backwards in the chair and putting his booted feet up on the foot of the dais, bottle cradled in his arms. “No, I meant I object to not being invited! I heard you were having a reception! A bar and everything, dancing… the whole works. I felt left out.”

“This kind of thing is _exactly_ why you weren’t invited” growled Jack.

John merely pouted. “Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t for me.”

Ianto rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t like you were on this planet, anyway–” began Jack, but fell silent at Ianto’s look.

Harriet was looking deeply confused. “I take it you know this man?”

Ianto gave another long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Ma’am. Unfortunately.” He looked back at John. “Okay, fine. You can stay–”

“Ianto, let me talk to him. If you don’t want him here–”

But Ianto shook his head, looking back at John. “You can stay as long as you don’t talk to my family.” He thought for a moment. “Also, shut up.”

John shrugged. “You know I can’t resist when you’re bossy.”

But Ianto wasn’t listening; he’d already turned back to Jack, drawing him close for another kiss; softer and more romantic this time, and Jack melted into it, hands coming up around Ianto’s back then slipping upwards to cradle the back of his head with utmost tenderness. After a moment he was aware that in the background a cheer had risen up all around them from the guests.

None of it mattered, he thought as he smiled against Jack’s lips. None of it mattered, except this.

* * *

The reception was held in a field on a clifftop, just outside the city and a short drive from the quiet little registry office in the suburbs where they’d held the ceremony. Torchwood being a secret organisation, they’d decided not to hold the wedding in the city centre, especially not after their previous failed attempts.

Rhys, for his part, thought this sudden attempt at secrecy was a bit of a waste of time given that their car had their name plastered all over it for starters. But he’d long ago decided that getting them to see that now was probably a futile exercise, and that he should probably try to pick his battles, given he was in this for the long haul.

Besides, it was far, far from the first thing on Rhys’s mind today. He had a spring in his step as he walked over to the bar – ignoring John Hart, who had tried to break away from arguing with Mickey and Martha to engage him in conversation – and ordered a bottle of champagne, three glasses, and a glass of iced water.

On the way back to Gwen, Rhiannon and Johnny, he looked around and saw that Jack and Ianto were dancing together, smiles on their faces as they spoke in soft voices. Tosh and Owen danced close by, spinning each other around to the music with more skill than he would have expected from either of them. Lois and Esther were dancing too, a blur of yellow and shell pink dresses on the dancefloor, holding each other very close and laughing. Rhys grinned; Gwen owed him twenty quid, then.

Off to the side of the dancefloor, Harriet Jones was talking to Alice, and to Martha’s family – Francine, Tish, Leo, and Clive, he remembered from the seating plan Gwen had shown him, who all seemed to be on close terms with Jack for some reason Rhys didn’t quite grasp. Andy was hanging around by the side of the group holding a glass of champagne, looking like he was trying to pluck up the courage to join the conversation. Not far off, an old man Gwen had pointed out as Archie McArthur – from Torchwood Two, looking slightly moth-eaten but somehow still splendid in full highland dress for the occasion – was sitting cross-legged on the ground with Mica, David and Steven sitting grouped around him, sharing a plate of cake. The children were listening with rapt attention as Archie told them stories, gesturing and waving his hands and making them giggle and gasp. Glenda Jones was chatting with Gray – who looked a little bit overwhelmed – and Rex and Vera. Glenda was looking increasingly perturbed; Rhys smiled, wondering if they were telling her about the risks Ianto had taken while they were in America. He wondered if Ianto would get a talking to from his mum before the night was through.

(There were a lot of unrelated Joneses at this wedding, Rhys thought. More than average, and most of them weren’t even Welsh. It was far from the weirdest thing about all this, but still.)

There was a group of people by the side of the marquee that Rhys vaguely recognised, and for a moment he had to wrack his brains to try to remember. Then he realised he’d last seen them in the hospital after Thames House; Ianto must have kept in contact.

There were others there too, presumably friends and associates of Torchwood that Rhys didn’t recognise. But by now he was back with Gwen, Rhiannon and Johnny standing under the canopy's edge, just out of the July sunshine. Gwen smiled as they maneuvered things so that she was holding the drinks and he was holding Anwen. His daughter squirmed in his arms, grabbing at his tie and then the nearest flower arrangement, and Rhys couldn’t help but smile as he bounced her and made her giggle.

Outside the tent there was a shriek; Rhys saw Gwen glance up, her responses fast and conditioned, before relaxing when she saw that it was only Myfanwy, swooping low over the sea cliffs in the sunshine. They’d let her out of the Hub for one day only, on account of the fact that they were outside the city, and felt guilty leaving her alone for so long; not on a day like today. As it was, she seemed to be having a marvelous time skimming over the water and terrorising the seagulls.

Rhiannon was pouring three glasses of champagne, skillfully keeping them away from Anwen’s excited, grabby hands while Johnny passed them around and Gwen sipped her glass of ice water. Rhys took a sip of champagne of his own before putting his glass down, putting his hands under Anwen’s chubby arms and spinning her in a circle. Rhys felt his heart swell with love; he was already lucky, but he had so much more to look forward to. They all did.

And… _oh_. This, Rhys realised all at once, as Anwen shrieked happily and Gwen laughed, _this_ was what Torchwood protected, then. He hadn’t always understood why they risked it all, why Gwen and the others put themselves through hell and risked their lives every day.

But now, perhaps, he was a little closer to it.

* * *

The afternoon was turning to evening, the light sloping under the edges of the marquee. Tosh had two drinks in her hands, and was looking for Owen. Though they’d danced earlier, he’d clearly wanted a break, so she’d danced with Martha and they’d had a good catch-up while he sat by the side.

But now she looked around for him, she couldn’t see him anywhere. She sighed, going back to the bar and peering around.

“If you’re looking for your boy he’s gone outside, by the cliffs” said John, breaking into her thoughts.

He was a little drunk; he seemed to be being good-natured about it, but she was still wary, remembering all those concealed weapons. “Thanks, John.”

He patted her on the arm, almost companionably. “Call me if you two want anything, sweetheart. Sage life advice, a threesome, a good old fist-fight, you know...” he sighed, looking over to the dancefloor where Jack and Ianto were dancing together again.

“I’ll bear that in mind” she said dryly, before turning away and following where he’d pointed.

Sure enough, she found Owen sitting by the edge of the cliff, almost peaceful, staring out to where Myfanwy was still having a grand time flying over the Irish Sea in the last light of the sun. “Brought you a drink” she said, sitting down beside him, careful not to get grass stains on her dress.

He turned and smiled, taking a sip. “Thanks Tosh.”

“Hmm.” She looked at him carefully. “Is this… getting to you?” she remembered when he’d told her about Katie, and how he’d been about to marry her back then. It'd been not long after he’d been brought fully back to life again that he'd told her that. It had certainly explained a lot. But more than that it had made Tosh feel honoured, that he trusted her enough to tell her something like this.

He looked at her, clearly knowing exactly what she meant. “Nah. It’s fine.”

“Owen.”

“...Okay, maybe a little bit” he said, with a rueful smile as he undid his collar button and loosened his tie. She didn’t think she’d actually seen Owen in a suit and tie before today, she realised. He hadn’t worn one for Gwen’s wedding, certainly. She smiled gently as she realised he had a cut sprig of one of his alien plants from the Hub in his buttonhole. “It’s fine though. It… doesn’t hurt so much anymore.” Owen frowned. “Or… it does, but… it’s further away.”

She wrapped her hand around his arm in silent support, waiting for him to continue if he wanted to.

“...Jack and Ianto being so bloody disgustingly happy does help though” said Owen with a laugh.

Tosh laughed too. “Yeah.” Seeing their friends happy, she thought, really did help when it came to putting to rest the horrors they’d all seen.

As she was thinking it, Owen finished his drink in one last long gulp, put the glass down, and put his arms around her; Tosh was surprised for a moment, before she relaxed into it, leaning her head on his. “Also, I missed you” he admitted softly. “I was away too long.”

She stroked his hair. “I missed you too” she said. Those months while he was in America had been necessary, but hard. Their bed had felt very large and cold and empty without him.

The fiery disk of the sun was just touching the horizon over the wide sea now, illuminating the water in blazing shades of red and pink. It seemed endless, a blazing carpet of light.

“Would you want that, Tosh?”

She blinked, realising she’d been lost in thought and wondering if she’d missed something. “Wh-what?”

“Forever” he said. “What those two have.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder.

She frowned. “I can’t fit it in my head” she admitted, once she’d realised what he meant.

“Me neither” said Owen, with a slight shudder. “Though, when I was dead, I think I started to try, a bit. ...It felt fucking awful every time I tried to imagine it.”

She squeezed his hand, interlacing their fingers. “That’s because you were _dead_ ” she said. “I think it would be different if you were _alive_ forever.” But she frowned, knowing that hadn’t been the question he asked. “I don’t know” she admitted. “I think I’d have to live with it a bit first, to decide.”

“Gather some data and then figure it out, eh?”

“That’s the scientific method.”

He laughed, sitting up and stretching out his back. “Fair enough” he said. “Well, it’s not like either of us have that choice anyway.”

“Neither did Jack or Ianto” she pointed out.

“True.”

They were silent for a little longer, watching the sun dip below the horizon until it was gone, leaving only a pinkish smudge at the bottom of the clear sky as the stars began to come out.

“Tosh.”

She turned her head, shivering slightly as the night air started to grow cold. Owen’s face was close to hers. “Hmm?”

“Thanks” he said.

“For what?”

He answered her question by kissing her, sweet and tender at first. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling warmth rush up her spine as she kissed him back, both of them deepening it at once, mouths tasting of champagne bubbles.

Her mind went back to years ago, the time when she and Ianto had sat on the roof of the Millennium Centre on Valentine’s day; she’d been drunk then, and the two of them had been wearily sharing the last of a bottle of prosecco, bruised and beaten after saving the world as usual. Tosh had been drunk and furiously upset at Owen, and beside her Ianto had been quietly hurting; nursing his broken heart after Jack had run out on him, on all of them, to go be with the Doctor.

They’d all come a long way since then.

When they broke apart, both their mouths were open, sharing each other’s breaths between them. She smiled into Owen’s lips as she kissed him again, and this time they came away from it breathing hard, Tosh’s heartbeat fast and loud in her ears, her blood racing.

She got to her feet, brushing dry grass off her dress, and offered Owen a hand up. “Come on” she said, smiling wickedly. “There’s some woods behind the marquee, I saw them on the way in. I bet no one will even notice we’ve been gone.”

He took her hand eagerly, letting her pull him up to his feet.

* * *

The sun had set, and though Jack and Ianto had separated earlier to make the rounds, speaking to and dancing with everyone left at the reception, they were back together again, swaying on the dance floor.

Even after all of it, it still didn’t feel entirely real to Ianto. He kept expecting something to happen.

“Mind if I borrow your husband for a dance?”

Ianto turned at the same time as Jack did to see Gwen standing there, and chuckled. “I suppose fair’s fair, after that time at your wedding.” He sighed, starting to let Jack go. “I can bring you a drink, if you–”

“Don’t be stupid” said Gwen, patting Ianto’s arm affectionately. “It was _you_ I wanted to dance with. Um, no offense Jack.”

“None taken” said Jack. “...Wait, some taken! I wanted a few more dances with Ianto! I only just got him back from dancing with his mum… got nothing against Glenda, she’s lovely, but–”

“But nothing. You’ve got forever with him. My turn.” She slipped her arm through Ianto’s, leaving no room for argument. “Come on. Anwen’s dropped off to sleep for a bit, but I haven’t got all day.” She grinned at Ianto. “You and I have some _things_ to talk about.”

“Oh, hot bedroom tips for newlyweds?” said Jack, affecting a pout without being quite able to keep the delight off his face. “Why don’t I get any of that talk, huh?”

“You’ve been married before, Jack” said Ianto, realising on the spot that Gwen really did have something she wanted to talk to him about. He smirked. “We can compare notes on hot bedroom tips for newlyweds later.”

Jack gave a melodramatic sigh. “Fine. But I want him back in one piece, okay?”

“No promises!” said Gwen, laughing as Jack turned around and she pulled Ianto into her arms.

For a while they just danced in companionable silence, Ianto waiting for Gwen to talk in her own time.

“Look, Ianto, I’m sorry about before” she said at last. “When you were talking to your mum and your sister.”

 _Oh_. So that was what this was about, Ianto thought. “It’s okay” he said, smiling a little sadly. “It’s just... a lot for them, I think.”

“Were you telling them about...” she gestured awkwardly.

“Just the part where neither me nor Jack will age or die” he told her. “That’s a lot in itself, the rest can wait until later. Only, I promised Jack – and myself – that I’d tell them by the wedding.”

Gwen laughed. “Didn’t leave much time to spare, did you?”

“I met my arbitrary, self-imposed deadline, which is surely all that matters.”

“I suppose so” said Gwen, swaying with him as the music began to pick up its pace. “Were they… okay about it?”

Ianto frowned, wondering how to answer that. He thought about his mother crying with both happiness and sorrow, Rhiannon’s insistent questions on the technicalities of his situation, only some of which Ianto had been able to answer. They’d both been shaken after learning how near he’d come to death at Thames House, much more afraid of losing him than even he’d expected. Clearly this had thrown them both, but then he didn’t really blame them. “They will be” he said, which was all he was really certain of anymore. “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. But they’ll come to understand eventually.” He thought the same was true of himself.

Gwen nodded. “Good.” She smiled up at him, the tension between them clearing a little. “It’s going to be weird without you and Jack around.”

“It’s only two weeks” said Ianto. “Then we’ll be back.”

“I know” said Gwen. “You deserve the break, it’s just...” she smiled. “Never mind.”

He frowned, realising there was something else she wanted to tell him. Once again he didn’t push, but just danced with her in silence, waiting.

When she spoke, it was with a small smile. “Ianto, I’m pregnant again” she said. “I wasn’t certain until yesterday, but...”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, Gwen, congratulations!”

She giggled. “Thanks! I haven’t told Jack yet.”

“Have you told Rhys?”

She smacked his arm lightly. “Obviously, yes! I told him this morning!” she shook her head. “So, I’m already doing better than last time.”

“To be fair, last time wasn’t the best of circumstances in general” he said, tilting his head.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“...You’re worried?”

“It’s stupid” she said. “Just… I was so scared while I was pregnant with Anwen. Scared that this life we live wasn’t the kind you should bring a child into. Scared she’d get hurt.”

“She hasn’t, though” said Ianto, looking around the hall; over in the corner, he could see Rhys sitting in a chair talking to Alice, with Anwen asleep in his lap, hand gently stroking her hair. “She’s got a good family, who love her and will protect her. This new baby will have that too.” He hoped Gwen understood that he didn’t just mean her and Rhys.

She smiled, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ianto. That was… surprisingly wise, actually.”

“While I resent the implication there, you’re very welcome.”

She snorted, and they danced in comfortable silence for a little while longer.

“Well” said Ianto, kissing her on the cheek as the song ended and they drifted to the side of the dance floor, “I have to say I’m a little disappointed; you didn’t give me any of the promised hot bedroom tips for newlyweds.”

She threw back her head and laughed, patting his arm and sitting down in a chair. “Hot bedroom tips, hmm? ….Okay, so if you’re having trouble sleeping in hot weather, get an electric fan and put it in front of the window. That way it’ll draw in outside air and cool the room.”

“Oh, _do_ tell me more...”

“The rest you and Jack have probably got covered already, I’d imagine.”

He sat down beside her, smirking. “Oh, absolutely. Actually, we’ve been wanting to try–”

“Ah. Nope. _Don’t_ need the details, thank you.” She rolled her eyes as he laughed at her. “Speaking of Jack. Where is your dear husband, anyway?” Gwen gestured, as the next song began to play. Something fast and jazzy Ianto didn’t recognise, but sounded like it was from the first half of the twentieth century. “This sounds like the sort of thing he’d like.”

“Hmm” said Ianto, frowning as he scanned the room. The lyrics of the song pressed into his awareness, unbidden.

“ _You lured me in with your cold grey eyes, your simple smile and your bewitching lies_...”

And then Ianto’s eyes caught on Jack, facing away from him over by the bar. He seemed to be staring intently at something, completely still.

“ _One and one and one is three, you bad, bad angel… you put the devil in me_...”

Ianto followed Jack’s gaze to another familiar figure, standing under the eaves of the marquee's canopy.

He only realised he was staring when he heard Gwen say his name.

“– _Ianto!_ Ianto, what’s–”

But she broke off as he pointed. “So, do you remember that conversation we had about aliens at the wedding…?”

* * *

Jack was standing beside John at the bar, thumb running over the wedding ring on his finger. For a while he’d been watching Ianto and Gwen dance together, wondering what they were talking about. But more than that, filled with deep affection as he watched them laugh together over something or other.

He and John had been talking, but Jack had only been half listening for the last few minutes. He still resented John for the stunt he’d pulled earlier, and how it had clearly bothered Ianto.

But still. John was right; none of them would be here today without his help with what had happened at Thames House, so Jack couldn’t help but let him stay. Still, only part of him was listening to John, part to the conversations around him, and part to the song playing, trying to work out where he recognised it from – he thought maybe the thirties, but it could have been any point in his time stream, really. He thought it might have been Martha who had requested it, and she could easily know it from her travels with the Doctor. Either way, Jack was wondering if he could go ask Ianto to dance again yet, his attention not really focused anywhere in particular.

“–And so it wasn’t actually _me_ that time, for once, and I still maintain that Professor Song had me framed on purpose. Is she even a real bloody Professor? I mean okay, probably, but the point _is–_ ” Jack was aware of John saying, before he stopped listening entirely.

Looking across the other side of the dancefloor, Jack had just seen a ghost.

Or, not a ghost. A man in a brown pinstriped suit and tie, with messy dark hair and sad eyes. The Doctor, but not as Jack had seen him last. As he’d seen him that time with the dalek, and the time before that, when he’d saved Owen and Tosh and Gray, and–

Jack was aware that he was staring; he realised that normally by now he would have rushed over, or the Doctor would have rushed over, or at least have smiled. But he was just standing there, staring at Jack.

He looked, Jack thought, as though he was in pain.

The only time he looked away was when his eyes flicked to the side. Jack frowned, following the Doctor’s gaze to a note lying folded on the bar beside him.

He picked it up, unfolding the paper. It read:

_Take him somewhere nice, on me._

And beside the handwritten note, something silver and hexagonal, flat and about the size of his smallest fingernail, was sticky-taped to the paper.

Jack’s eyes widened as he recognised it. Carefully – reverently, almost – he unstuck the clear tape, opening up the flap of his vortex manipulator and slotting the little hexagon into the side of the device.

The display lit up with familiar readings he hadn’t seen on it in a long time.

Jack stared down at it, eyes wide, then to the Doctor again; he was smiling a little sadly, and gave Jack a salute. Jack gave him one back, unable to keep the grin off his face. He was halfway off his seat, when John grabbed his arm. “Hey, you just blanked out on–” he broke off, eyes going to the still-open display of Jack’s vortex manipulator. “Whoa. When did you fix _that_?”

“Just now!” Jack grinned, suddenly filled with excitement. “...Wedding present. Listen, I gotta go and see–” but he broke off, as when he looked back the Doctor was gone.

“Yeah, yeah, go see your husband” said John, rolling his eyes indulgently and taking another swig from the bottle. “I should go anyway. Got a date with not one but _two_ Silurians after this, and you _know_ what those scales do to me.”

Jack chuckled. “Have fun, then.”

John nodded, and clasped Jack’s face between his hands. “Congratulations, and all that. Oh, and give Eye-candy this from me” and he kissed him softly on the lips before Jack could protest. The kiss tasted strongly of alcohol, but – unusually for John, especially while he was this drunk – there wasn’t much that was particularly sexual about it. Jack was just trying to decide _what_ it was, when John drew back, grinned, and took another swig. Then he let go of the bottle, and teleported away right in front of Jack.

Rather stunned though he still was, Jack’s reflexes were quick enough to catch the bottle before it hit the ground and smashed. He placed it carefully back on the bar, then made to run out of the marquee in the direction he thought he’d seen the Doctor go.

But when he got outside, there was no one there. He walked around in the dark a little, feeling an excited tug in his chest as he stared up at the blanket of stars visible in the velvet-dark sky, outside the worst of the city’s light pollution on the clearest night of the year.

He couldn’t wait to show them to Ianto, up close.

For a moment, Jack just paused and listened, making extra sure there was no one here. He could see a little copse of trees not far ahead, and he paused to listen when he heard a sound coming from amidst its blots of shadow. A moment later though, he laughed as he realised it was definitely not the sound of the Tardis, but rather, a series of short, sharp breathy moans, and deeper grunts that rapidly turned into a higher keening sound of pleasure.

Still laughing to himself, Jack turned back to the glow of the lights inside the marquee.

* * *

“Ianto!” said Jack, bounding over to him. “ _So_ , I know we had the honeymoon planned out...”

“Oh, here we go” muttered Ianto, going tense. “That was the Doctor, wasn’t it, so… let me guess. End of the world, again?”

“No! No… in fact...” said Jack. He smiled, holding out his arm and practically bouncing with enthusiasm. He took a deep breath. “How would you like to go a little further than originally planned?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism, or…?”

“I mean, I don’t know what _you_ were planning for, but...” he smiled. “Nope. I mean, Ianto… let me take you to see the stars?”

Ianto blinked. “Oh” he said. “You mean–”

Jack held up his vortex manipulator, eyes sparkling with tears just a little. “Wedding present from the Doctor” he said. “A new spatio-temporal locator chip. It’ll work again, after all this time. Teleportation, time-travel, the whole lot.” He smiled at Ianto’s expression. “There’s this little moon I know, doesn’t even have a name, but the sky’s a sort of soft purple and the water’s filled with diamond dust. It’s a sediment, carried along on the stream, and the way it _sparkles_ in the light of the binary suns...” Jack shook his head. “Or we could go rent a skimmer, fly the icy rings of the Sumeria five system and watch the moons. Or... oh! I’ve always wanted to take you dancing on Vic’rasslar, they have the _best_ parties this side of the sixty-ninth century.” His smirk dropped away. “...Or, there’s always the beaches of Boeshane. We’d have to avoid my time, because of timelines you know, but...” he raised his eyebrows. "What d'you say?"

“ _Jack_ ” said Ianto, a little overwhelmed. “That’s...” he tailed off. “You’ve wanted to show me the universe for a long time, haven’t you?”

“...Yeah.” Jack laughed, voice cracking a little. “I really think you’d like it.”

Ianto squeezed his hand, their rings clicking together. “Then, yes.”

“Really?” Jack grinned.

Ianto shrugged, gazing into Jack’s face. “ _Really_ , what I most wanted to accomplish on the honeymoon was to spend at least a week of it in bed with my new husband. And possibly destroy a mattress beyond repair.” He gave Jack a coy smile, patting his wrist over the vortex manipulator. “But... seeing as we’ve got all the time we need...”

“In more ways than one, now.”

“Yeah. Then...” Ianto tilted his head, smiling sidelong at Jack as he pretended to consider it, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind seeing the universe too.”

Jack stared at him for a moment, then laughed, sudden and joyful. His laugh was, as it always had been, infectious, and Ianto found himself laughing too, for so long it made his muscles ache.

Once they’d both stopped, they found they were leaning on each other, arms clasped as though they were about to dance again. Even as he had the thought, a new song began to play.

“Hey” said Jack, drawing back and offering him his hand in a way that might have appeared overly formal if not for the lopsided grin, not to mention the slight glimmer of tears in his eyes. “May I have the last dance?”

Ianto looked around. Most of the guests had already said goodnight, gone home or gone to sleep. A new song was starting, something slow and sweet; Ianto thought he recognised Ella Fitzgerald’s voice on the recording.

He put his hand in Jack’s, letting him lead him to the dance floor again.

Pressed close to Jack’s chest, he realised that the tiredness of a long day was beginning to catch up to him; he knew he’d wake up again later – he had _plans_ for tonight, after all – but for the moment he felt content in a sleepy way, just here, just now, with Jack’s arms around him, swaying slowly on the emptying dance floor. Not for the first time, he thought back to Gwen’s wedding; how far they’d all come since then, in more ways than one.

“ _It’s very clear, our love is here to stay… not for a year, forever and a day_...”

Ianto frowned, actually beginning to pay attention to the lyrics as they danced to the slow melody. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it? Who requested this one?” Then he rolled his eyes and shook his head at Jack’s guileless expression. “Sentimental...”

Jack pouted. “It’s my wedding day.”

“Oh, fine then. I’ll let you have it.”

“That a promise?” purred Jack, close to his ear.

Ianto smiled, then turned his head rapidly and kissed him, both answering his question and effectively silencing him for a moment. In the background, the song carried on.

“ _In time, the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, they’re only made of clay… but our love is here to stay._ ”

“Will it really be like that?” Ianto said, a slight frown on his face.

“What?”

Ianto rested his cheek against Jack’s with a sigh. “I mean, I know it will. I know we’ll see the world fall to dust around us, and… one day even the earth will be gone, and we’ll carry on. But...” he shook his head a little, squeezing Jack’s hand. “I can’t picture it. I can’t hold it in my head.”

“Neither can I, really” admitted Jack, voice soft in his ear. “And I’ve had longer than you. The human brain isn’t wired to deal with the concept of eternity.”

“Hmm” said Ianto, swaying slowly to the music with Jack. He was silent for a moment. “S’pose we’ll just have to deal with it one day at a time then, won’t we?”

Jack smiled against the side of his face. “You know, it took _me_ most of the last three decades of the nineteenth century to come to that conclusion. Then two world wars and another few decades to even begin to put it into practice.”

“Well, I’m not starting from scratch, am I?”

Jack smiled. “Guess not, no.”

The last notes of the song faded and found their hands still clasped, not letting go.

* * *

When Tosh and Owen got back, hand in hand, it was to find the marquee had almost emptied out. There was Jack, Ianto, Gwen, and Gray, Lois and Esther holding hands shyly, Rex and Vera sitting by the bar as they waited for a taxi back to their hotel. Rhys was asleep on one of the chairs, with Anwen lying on his chest, both snoring.

The others had all begun to tidy up, but it was clear Jack and Ianto were leaving soon. Jack was reaching sideways to give Gray a firm side-hug, pressing a kiss to his hair before drawing back and ruffling his curls.

As soon as he saw Tosh and Owen enter, he grinned mischievously, picking up one of the bouquets of flowers and throwing it at them both with a cheerful whoop. Tosh was too tired by now to dodge, and apparently Owen was too, because the flowers exploded all over them. She saw Ianto pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head at Jack in fond exasperation, and at the same time she saw Owen blush scarlet.

But despite all that, Jack and Ianto came over and hugged them and wished them goodbye. And before long, Jack was smiling brilliantly as he entered the coordinates into his vortex manipulator. Then he slipped an arm around Ianto's waist, and they teleported away.

After they’d gone, the rest of them were left in sleepy silence.

“Well” said Gwen, laying her light shawl over Rhys and Anwen and straightening up, hands on her hips as she looked around at the mess. “That was fun. But we’ve still got work to do before we sleep. We need to tidy this lot up, somehow catch Myfanwy in the dark, and get her home.” She frowned. “...I _really_ regret wearing heels now.”

Owen sighed. “It’s gonna take _forever_.”

Tosh elbowed him, and nodded at Gwen. “Well, we’d best get started then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about Tosh and Ianto on the roof of the Millenium Centre is from the Big Finish audio Dinner and a Show by Gareth David-Lloyd....it's the best content, I love it and I very much recommend it. I actually didn't intend to do the parallel either, I was just writing and I realised..... oh, right, it accidentally came out that way.  
> Also, why, you might ask, do Jack and Ianto have specifically the [Ella Fitzgerald version of Love Is Here to Stay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=at3DdAQseGs) for their last dance? Well, because 1) it's got a slightly slower tempo and more of the right vibes that I wanted for that scene than any other version I've found and 2) I, personally, like it best.  
> Anyway yes, you may notice this has (provisionally) only two chapters left! We're coming near the end now, but I'm not done yet! Hope you enjoyed this wedding softness (it's what they all deserve!) and I hope you continue to enjoy the remainder of this!


	35. Chapter 35

Jack and Ianto had been away for one day when they came back. Less than a day in fact, if you were counting in hours, which Gwen was: it had been just over nine of them. Nowhere near enough of which had been spent asleep.

Thus, the morning after the wedding the two of them teleported into the main space of the Hub, right next to Tosh’s desk. Jack’s arm was around Ianto’s waist just as they’d been when they left, though they were carrying several new bags and packages. As well as this, Jack seemed to be wearing some sort of futuristic equivalent of a Hawaiian shirt underneath his greatcoat, and even Ianto was wearing a linen button down over jeans rather than his customary suit and tie. They both looked rather more suntanned and windblown, and they were both smiling.

Gwen, who was walking past with a bag of pastries from the bakery over one arm and a cardboard tray of takeaway coffee cups in the other, yelled in alarm at the sudden materialisation of two people in front of her, and would have dropped the coffees if Ianto hadn’t lunged forward and deftly caught them.

“ _Whoa!_ ” Gwen shouted, as Tosh’s head darted up in alarm. Behind them, she heard the metallic rattle of the new-built stairs as Gray came running down from the upper level gantry walk. “Okay, first of all, Jack, if you have that thing working again can we institute a _no teleporting where people might be walking with full cups_ _of hot liquid_ rule in here? Or, I dunno, a designated teleportation corner.” Gwen tensed. “...More importantly, what the hell are you doing back already? Did something happen? Is there an invasion, or–”

“Gwen! Gwen, no, nothing like that” said Jack, holding up his hands placatingly as Ianto helped her steady the cups and put the bags on the desk.

She frowned, hardly relaxing. “So why are you back so soon?”

“Time travel, remember? It’s been six months for us” said Jack, smiling. “We missed you!”

“And I missed these archive boxes” said Ianto, already beginning to walk over to the boxes that were stacked up beside the desks in the middle of the main space. “I’ve been looking forward to unpacking these.” He squinted around. “I hope no one’s messed with them.”

“You’ve been gone less than a day, most of which we spent cleaning up after the wedding! You said you’d be gone two weeks!”

“We didn’t wanna miss too much!” said Jack, exchanging a glance with Ianto. For a moment, both their smiles faltered. “What’s the point of time travel if you still miss so much time?”

Gwen’s face softened for a moment, before she shook her head. “...Nope. Don’t you go getting all sentimental with me, Harkness. I’m not having either of you getting a case of “ _oh these poor mortals are going to die on us, we need to spend all our time with them_ ”. That’s bloody depressing for everyone concerned.”

“We’re _not–_ ”

She folded her arms. “Come on, two weeks you said.”

“Why?” said Jack.

Gwen opened her mouth, glancing at the others. She neatly side-stepping Ianto who was attempting to peer curiously inside the bag of pastries. Probably making sure she got everyone’s orders right. She grinned. “Need some time to set up the coup we’re planning for when you come back, you know? Got to plan that kind of thing out.”

Ianto laughed, casting an eye over the coffee cups. “You’ve already taken my job, it looks like. Maybe I’d be better off on your side.”

“Maybe you would” she said, shooing them away. “In two weeks. Yes, that means you Ianto... hands off those boxes. No one’s gonna touch them. Go on, off with the both of you.”

Ianto and Jack exchanged a look, then Jack shrugged, taking hold of Ianto’s waist again, rolling his eyes slightly. “Whatever you say, Ma’am.”

And with a smile, he teleported them away.

* * *

When they rematerialised again a moment later, two weeks had passed in the Hub. As soon as they appeared, Ianto nearly flinched in Jack’s arms at the explosion of party poppers.  
  
“ _Surprise!_ ”

Ianto looked up at the banner that someone had strung across the walkway: it read _WELCOME HOME_ in large, handwritten letters. He sighed, looking at them all grouped around. “Well, it looks like we’re back again” he said.

Jack was laughing, as the rest of them clustered around the two of them. “You know, we could have just been here for the last two weeks...”

“But then we wouldn’t have been able to throw a surprise party” said Tosh, grinning. “Pizza’s on the table, by the way. Ianto, before you ask no one’s touched your boxes.”

“I have” said Owen with a grin, throwing a spent party popper at Ianto’s head, which he caught and threw back. “Pawed through them and messed everything up, I did.”

“Shut up” said Gwen. “Ianto, don’t listen to him. You can start unpacking them whenever you want.”

“But first!” said Jack. “We’ve brought presents for everyone!”

“And we want to know everything that’s happened while we were gone” put in Ianto. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Oi, Ianto, make us a round of coffee first, hmm?” begged Owen, shrugging off his labcoat and flinging it unceremoniously over the chair in his new, expanded medical lab, before peering back up at Ianto. He grimaced. “It’s been chaos here, with the substandard caffeine supply we’ve been getting.”

“I think that was a compliment to you and an insult to me, Ianto” said Gwen.

“Oh, it was” said Owen, patting her arm affectionately, as Ianto sighed, drawing back reluctantly from the lure of the still-taped-up boxes and heading towards the kitchen.

Tosh laughed. “Well, I suppose... let’s get this briefing-and-welcome-home-party started then.”

* * *

“–And there are three memos from the Prime Minister, and six from the Mayor's office. Also, UNIT is waiting for you to call them back” said Lois. “As for the reports from the alien arms trading case, Jack, they’re on your desk to sign. Oh! And just this morning I also heard back from Esther; the Colasanto case is officially closed on their side, but I wanted to wait for both of your reports before I file it.” She smiled, brightly. “And... that’s about it, I think.”

“That was… comprehensive” said Jack through a mouthful of pizza, nodding approvingly. “Thank you, Lois.”

“Also, she’s been bloody _pining_ ” said Owen, leaning over and stealing the last slice of pizza.

“Excuse me, I have _not_ ” said Lois, rather primly.

“You have. All those video chats in the Hub late at night?” He grinned, teasing. “Pining, if ever I saw it.”

“She’s in a long-distance relationship” said Gwen, glaring at Owen. “Let her have her video chats.”

Lois balked slightly. “I… I don’t know if it’s a _relationship_ , yet… I mean, uh, if she wanted...”

Gwen sighed. “Sweetheart. Talk to her, okay? I refuse to have another Jack and Ianto situation, with respect to communication in relationships.”

“Hey!” protested Jack, arm slipping around Ianto again, his chair squeaking against the floor as he shifted. “It didn’t work out so bad...”

“...We’ve certainly got better” acknowledged Ianto.

“Oh, you’re taking her side?” Jack feigned affront.

Ianto merely raised a stern eyebrow at him, while Owen glanced between them suspiciously.

Gwen smiled, wryly. “Okay then, bad example” she said. “But my point still stands. You should talk to her, okay Lois?”

Lois smiled softly, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. “Okay” she said. “Okay, maybe I will.”

* * *

After the meeting was done – and the pizza boxes cleared up, and the gifts given, and Ianto had finally got a chance to open up his boxes – Jack stood alone in the conference room, staring down at it all. He liked the new design of the Hub, if only because more open space made it easier to do this, to see them all at once from above. These people he’d come to love and trust, his family.

“Jack.”

He blinked, turning to the side to see Gwen beside him. “Gwen! What can I do for you?”

She leaned against his side. “Good to have you back.”

“Yeah” he said, leaning back very slightly. “Oh! Congrats on baby number two.”

Gwen pressed her hand to her stomach, where she’d thought this morning – _maybe_ – she could see the very beginnings of a bump. “Oh, Ianto told you?”

“What’d I say about us talking, hmm?” He frowned. “Was he not supposed to?”

She smiled. “No, it’s fine. I kind of expected him to. Easier than asking for leave time myself.”

He laughed. “Ever the professional, huh?”

“That’s me.”

Their laughter subsided into silence for a moment. Then Gwen spoke up again. “Anyway, what I wanted to say was… have you talked to Gray since you got back?”

Jack turned to look at her. “Not… outside that meeting, no.” He frowned; now that he thought about it, Gray had barely talked the whole time. “Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s just been a bit… off, I suppose, the whole time you and Ianto have been away.”

Jack smiled softly. “Guess he just missed us.”

“…Maybe.”

“You think it’s something else?”

“I don’t know. He just seemed sort of… restless. Quiet. You know?” She hesitated for a moment. “Not like the early days, but...” she sighed. “I don’t know. Keep an eye out for him, I suppose.”

Jack wrapped his arm around Gwen’s shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze as they stared down into the main space of the Hub. “I will” he said.

She leaned into the touch. “I’m glad you’re back, Jack.”

“Me too” he said.

* * *

True to his word, Jack did look out for Gray over the next few weeks. And he quickly came to understand exactly what Gwen meant.

Gray seemed restless, yes. But more than that, Jack realised it wasn’t a new thing. It had only increased while he and Ianto had been away, but something was clearly bothering Gray, and had been for a while. He felt a stab of guilt, as he thought about how before the wedding, he’d been so busy. In fact, he realised, he should probably have seen it just before the wedding, when Gray had given him the acorn. He’d had the same edge to him then.

As it was, he confronted Gray about it one evening in early September by the rail over the water, outside the rebuilt front of the tourist office.

Jack deliberately let Gray hear him as he walked up beside him. He wasn’t actually sure if either of them would be able to sneak up on the other – they certainly hadn’t when they were children, a perpetual war they’d had with no one ever winning – but this time, he made sure not to startle Gray.

Instead he placed himself squarely shoulder to shoulder with his brother, staring up at the sky as Gray was. There were a few clouds, the wind carrying them fast over the water; the air had just begun to smell of autumn, with a slight chill to it now the sun had set. Between the clouds, they could see the half-moon every so often, illuminating the water in stripes and fast-moving ripples.

Gray looked over at him. “Jack.”

“Gray.”

“...I saw Ianto’s car leave. I thought you’d gone home, already.”

“It’s the first Thursday of the month. He’s gone to Rhiannon’s for dinner.” Jack looked sideways. “Normally I’d go too, but...”

“...But you begged off for tonight, because you wanted to make sure I was okay” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Jack chuckled. “Got it in one.”

Gray fell silent for a little longer, but the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable; just a quiet sifting through his thoughts. Jack waited for a moment, and sure enough, Gray spoke. “You know… what you said to me, before the wedding? About… whether I’d leave, if I could.”

Jack drew in a soft breath. “Yeah?”

“Well...” a small line appeared on Gray’s forehead. “Since you and Ianto were gone… I’ve been thinking.”

Jack turned to him fully now, hand on his arm, voice quiet and serious. “Gray... do you want to leave?”

Gray glanced down at the vortex manipulator on Jack’s wrist, just showing under his coat sleeve, which told Jack everything he needed to know. “The thing is” said Gray, “I’ve been happy here, with you and the others. I really have. For the first time since they took me, I’ve been _happy_.” He sounded almost incredulous. “I need you to know that.”

“I know” said Jack, smiling slightly. “But…?”

“...But, now that the Rift’s closed, and the Miracle is over, and… everything seems to be settling down–”

Jack gave a hollow laugh. “Well _that’s_ tempting fate if ever anything was, but carry on.”

Gray smiled softly. “There’s… there’s something else I want to – I think I _need_ to do.” He frowned. “But… I’m afraid I don’t know how to start...”

“...Whatever you need” said Jack, pushing down his misgivings and tapping his vortex manipulator, “anywhere you want to go. I can take you.”

Gray turned to look at him, suddenly intent. “Anywhere?”

Jack’s face fell. “I… can’t take you home” he said. “I’m sorry. I really am. But the timeline–”

“It’s okay” broke in Gray. “I… with mom and dad gone, I don’t think there’s much left for me there.”

Jack smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“But, if you’d be willing to drop me off, there’s something else I’d like to do...” Gray hesitated. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” Gray looked contemplative, raising his eyes to the sky. “I’ve been thinking… _they’re_ still out there.”

Jack knew what he meant immediately: _those creatures_ , spoken about in hushed voices by Boeshane children and their frightened parents. The creatures who had taken Gray and his father from him back then. The four five six, their distant ancestors, who had threatened every child on Earth, and who had tried to take Ianto from him. “Yeah” Jack said gently. From what they’d pieced together of the history in the months after Thames House, they would exist for at least another three thousand years, and possibly far into the future after that. He looked at the slight frown between Gray’s eyes, worried suddenly. “But Gray, I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do about that. You’ve seen the kind of damage changing history can cause, and we only escaped because we were _really_ damn lucky...”

“I know” said Gray. He turned to look Jack in the eye, and there was a determination on his face now, a focus that Jack had rarely seen. “I know I can’t destroy them” he said. “I know there'll be others they take, others like me, for millennia to come. I know those people will hurt and suffer. But if I can save just a few, just one or two here and there, well. _They_ won’t have to. And for a few people in this universe, life will be a little better. And… and after we blew up that ship, I know _how_ to fight them.”

“...What are you saying, Gray?”

He shrugged, looking away. “I think I owe it to the world to do more than nothing, is all.”

Jack stared at him for a second, then put a hand on his shoulder, a big smile on his face. “My little brother, the hero” he said.

“Not yet” Gray smiled ruefully. “But when I am, I’ll have learned it from you.”

Jack, on impulse, reached out and hugged Gray tightly. But when he drew back, he was frowning a little. “Look, Gray, you know I’m all for this kind of thing. But you also know I can’t come with you if you do this, right? Not all the time. And I don’t want you going to fight them alone.”

Gray smiled. “Actually, I thought I could… I don’t know. Find myself a team of my own.”

Jack laughed. “Guess you really have been learning from me” he said. He put his hand on Gray's shoulder. “Well, clearly you’ve got a plan. Tell me what you need, and I’ll help you get started.”

And so, Gray did.

* * *

That had been almost a month ago now.

Now, Gray and Jack stood in the central space of the Hub with the rest of the team grouped around them in a loose half-circle, ready to see them off.

“And don’t forget to call” said Tosh, hovering close by. “Have you got the ring?”

He nodded and held it up, purple stone glinting in the light. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to keep–”

“ _Yes_ ” said Jack and Tosh at the same time, then Jack laughed and nodded to Tosh.

She pointed at the ring. “The signal from that beacon should be received by Jack’s vortex manipulator, and also the Hub’s monitoring systems; it’s got fifty-first century tech built in. Basically, if you get into trouble, you should be able to call us even out of range of the normal Earth-based communication infrastructure.” She shrugged. “In this time period at least. Not much I can do once you start time-traveling, but it’s something.”

He smiled, clasping the ring briefly before putting it on. “Thank you, Toshiko.”

She laughed, patting his chest over the time lock she’d given him earlier. It wasn’t one of her and Owen’s infinite ones; they only had the power cells for two of those, until Tosh found another dalek at least. But it would give him at least an hour in a time-bubble at a push, which he’d learned the value of over his time here if nothing else.

“Bring me back any interesting tech bits you find” she said, hugging him. “And... please don’t die.”

He laughed, drawing back in time to see her discreetly thumb away a tear. “I promise.”

Ianto came up to them next, handing two paper bags to Jack. “I’ve made you both sandwiches, and snacks for the journey. Also, there’s a thermos of coffee that should stay hot for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Ianto.” Jack laughed. “But we’re teleporting there. It’s instantaneous.”

Ianto made a face. “That’s what you said when we were on our way from Phassarah-eight to New Venus, right before we got held up at intergalactic customs for six hours with the kiosk closed.” He shook his head at Gray. “You wouldn’t _believe_ how crabby he got.”

“Uh, I wasn’t _crabby_ , I was _impatient_.”

“A subtle distinction.” Ignoring Jack’s protests against this, Ianto stepped forward and gave Gray a hug. “You can come back and visit any time, okay? Myfanwy’s going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss her too. And you, Ianto. I never expected to have another brother, but you’re a pretty good one.”

He tilted his head with a small, pleased smile. “You too, of course.”

The others said their goodbyes, and before long he’d looped his arm through Jack’s. “Ready?”

Gray nodded. “Yeah.”

Jack leaned forward and stole a quick kiss from Ianto, then winked at his team. “Back soon.”

And with that he activated the teleport, and they were away.

* * *

The first thing they’d done was to go on a brief shopping trip, in the fifty-first century. Jack had already given Gray a small, functional plasma blaster from the armory, but he needed to get some replacement power modules for it, as well as batteries, and to change some credits from Jack’s old account in this time period. By the time they were done, a few hours had passed and they were sitting on a bench looking out over the market square of a town not that dissimilar to Port Boeshane – across the bay from the peninsula when they were growing up – though a little bigger.

They were mostly quiet as they munched the sandwiches Ianto had packed, dust doves beginning to swarm around their feet for the crumbs. When they’d finished eating, Jack looked over at Gray, rummaging in his coat for a moment before pulling out another gun, smaller and silver. “Here. I want you to have this.”

Gray picked up the weapon, feeling the weight of it and the way it fitted in his hand. “Is this...”

“Sonic blaster. My old one actually, from back when I was with the time agency. John brought it back for me.”

“...Thanks.”

Jack grinned. “You’ve gotta watch the power drain, but...” and he took the blaster from Gray’s hands, aiming it at the partition fence beside them. A blue square of light was projected out, cutting a perfectly square hole in the fence. A moment later, Jack fired again and the material was replaced, the hole smoothed back over again. He handed it back to Gray, grinning. “In the words of an old friend? Squareness gun.” He shrugged. “Got me out of a few scrapes, over the years.”

Gray nodded, thinking about locked doors and airtight rooms. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack patted him on the shoulder, crumpling up the empty paper bag. “Well, that’s everything, I guess” he said, holding out a hand to pull Gray up. “Now, let’s go try and make some friends, huh?”

* * *

Which was how they’d ended up here.

The bar was small and rather dingy, but Jack said it was the only place to go if you were looking to hear rumours, or to find some people for a specific kind of job.

But it was a little intimidating, was the thing. It wasn’t until now that Gray started to doubt his convictions, his mission. Or rather, he wasn’t doubting _those_ , specifically; more the premise that he’d be able to persuade anyone else to come along with him into danger. None of the people around looked much like they’d be swayed by some sob-story about kidnapped children, he thought.

But Jack had sent him off to find somewhere to sit while he went to get them drinks at the packed bar, so Gray would start there. He looked around; all the tables were packed too, with rather questionable looking types of people, a mixture from all across the universe. In the background a band played, but Gray could barely hear the music over the babble of chatter and arguing and laughter and occasionally the sound of smashing glass.

Gray wandered away from the bar, looking around at the patrons and starting to feel a little overwhelmed. He was quickly realising that he’d never actually tried to make friends before; Boeshane had been such a small place that he’d known all the other children close to his age for as long as he could remember. Then, after his capture… well, those weren’t really _friends_ , as such. They were allies, necessary connections that kept you safe, people to tend to your injuries and hold you while you sobbed in your sleep, pretended the rattling of your chains didn’t keep them awake. But he’d learned not to get too close to anyone; they’d only be taken away, never seen again, or find a way to end it, or die off in front of your eyes from sickness, coughing out their life on the floor of the cell.

The only time he had come close to someone in there… well. There was Kerrin, and an infection had taken her, that would have been laughably easy to treat with simple antibiotics.

He blinked, forcing back the memories. Why was this coming back now? Well, of course, he knew the answer; it was because he’d left his new home to fight them. To pay back what had been done.

And that was another thing; in his new home, he hadn’t had to find his own people either. Instead, the family that Jack had gathered around him had adopted him as one of them, forgiving him for what he’d done and showing him everything he’d lacked all those years; security, love, warmth, and simply their presence. Their acknowledgement that he was there.

He wondered, suddenly – nervously – why he’d taken it into his head to leave. Surely what he was doing on Earth was just as good, just as valuable, and–

“...Gray?!? _Gray!_ ”

He flinched at the sound of the unfamiliar voice saying his name, staring around. Or… wait. Not so unfamiliar, but not a voice he’d heard in some years. Not one he’d expected to hear again, truth be told.

Not that he had much time to contemplate it, because at that moment someone was running to him, nearly knocking him sideways off his feet with a forceful hug, arms going around his waist, face buried in his chest.

“Gray... oh stars, it’s really you!” she yelled, drawing back excitedly. “How’ve you been doing?”

He blinked a few times. “ _Emmeline?_ ”

She smacked his arm, winking. As he watched, a couple of eyes appeared on her forearm above her vortex manipulator and winked too, a sight as distressing as it was oddly endearing. “The very same!”

She looked much better off than last time he’d seen her, was his first impression. She’d lost the unhealthy pallor people got when they were kept locked away, and she’d put on a little weight, just enough to round out her cheeks. She wasn’t wearing the jumpsuit she’d been in when they’d found her, but a mishmash of second-hand clothes, bright and neatly darned in places. She was smiling brilliantly.

“You look good, Emmeline.”

She reached up and put her hands on his cheeks, squishing his face. “So do you!”

This caught him off guard, her words more than the gesture; he hadn’t quite been aware of how much he must have changed since that day, early on when he’d only just begun to get to know Toshiko and Ianto and the rest of the team, to tentatively make his peace with Jack and start to mend. But he supposed it was true. He smiled. “Thanks.”

She laughed in delight. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were living on Earth, with your brother and Toshiko, and – oh! How’s she doing, anyway?”

“She’s doing well” said Gray, smiling. “Look, she gave me this so I could contact her.” He held up his hand to show her the ring on his finger, and watched her eyes light up with recognition.

“Oh, I’m so glad! I missed Toshiko too.”

At that, a new voice came from behind Emmeline. “Did someone say _Toshiko?!?_ ”

Emmeline grinned, arm slipping through another woman’s as she came up to them by the bar. “Gray, this is Anna” she said.

“Um, hello.”

“Anna, remember I told you about Gray?”

The other woman smiled, shaking his hand. “Anna Volokova. Nice to meet you!” She spoke English with a different Earth accent from those he was used to hearing in Cardiff, though exactly what it was he wasn’t sure of.

“And you” he said, a little confused. “Um...”

Anna laughed. “I can understand if you’re a little lost. I was a Russian cosmonaut, but I got caught up in a time bubble for a few decades… Toshiko found me, helped me get away from Earth and the people who wanted me dead.” She shrugged. “I just kept going. Until I met Emmeline, and we found out we had a mutual friend. She told me about you too, and how you and Toshiko saved her.” Anna looked around hopefully. “Is she with you now? I’d love to see her again.”

“Ah... no, she’s not here” said Gray. He saw their faces, holding up his hands in reassurance. “She’s fine! She’s fine. She’s even saved the world a few more times.”

Anna nodded, delighted. “I knew she would.”

Emmeline put her hands on her hips. “And so have we. Or, maybe not the world, but we’re working up to it.”

“Oh?” said Gray. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing as grand as she makes it sound” laughed Anna, with a roll of her eyes as the two of them began to walk towards an empty booth, sitting down around the table. “Just a few missions here and there. We rescued some catkind kittens who got stuck in a well on Zorax-nine a few weeks ago. That one was pretty good, but most of them are boring; retrieval of dangerous objects, clearing out an infestation of stellar squid from the orbits around some bigwig’s private moon, that sort of thing.” She grinned. “Oh! We also rescued a Vinvocci princess once. Well mostly she rescued herself and we were also there, but still. Emmeline had a big, embarrassing crush on her.”

Emmeline flushed, which apparently came with a few eyes popping out on her cheeks and blinking furiously. “She _was_ pretty, though.”

“She was” agreed Anna, giving Emmeline’s shoulder a squeeze in solidarity. She sighed. “One day, we want to do something bigger, though. Something better. For now...” she shook her head. “We’re just trying to make our way in the world, you know? Save some money, maybe get a proper ship some day...”

“Hey, my vortex manipulator is fine, thank you” said Emmeline, affronted. “Perfectly easy to carry three. I mean, it’s a bit bumpy, _maybe_ , but–”

“Three?” said Gray, looking between the two of them. “Who’s the third?”

“Oh! He’s still not back with the drinks, but...” she turned and hollered over her shoulder in the vague direction of the bar. “Alonso? _Alonso!_ What’s taking you so long over there?”

At her voice, a rather flustered-looking young man hurried over, carrying three drinks in his hands. “Sorry” he said. “Took a while to get served...”

“Ah-ah” said Anna, who was facing towards the bar, shaking her finger at him with a mischievous smile. “I was watching the whole time. You were too busy trying – and failing – to make eye contact with that guy in the coat talking to the bartender.”

Alonso flushed right to his hairline and the tips of his ears. “Did you _see_ him though, Anna? Jawline to die for, and his shoulders in that coat… way out of my league, of course...”

“Aw. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Alonso sighed. “Also, he wouldn’t stop telling them about his husband, so either way I doubt I’ve got a chance...”

Anna patted him on the arm consolingly as he put the drinks down on the table. “Better luck next time?”

Meanwhile, Emmeline had stood up in her seat, peering across to where Alonso had come from. “Wait” she said, looking back at Gray. “Is that _Jack_? Did he come with you?”

Gray craned over to the bar too; sure enough, there was Jack, gesturing and grinning and talking animatedly to the Silurian cleaning glasses behind the bar, who looked like they were close to losing their patience. Gray sighed. “That’s my brother, Jack” he explained to Anna and Alonso. “He just got married. He’ll carry on like that for a while, I expect.”

At this Alonso seemed to notice him properly, pausing to stare at him midway through sitting down in the booth beside Emmeline. “ _Oh_ ” he said, looking rather confused. “Um, hello, I don’t think we’ve met...”

“Oh, yes!” said Emmeline. “Remember I told you about Gray?”

“Wait... Gray as in, _Gray and Toshiko_?” Alonso’s eyes widened, and he extended an almost reverent hand. Somehow, he was blushing even more than before. “Alonso Frame. Very pleased to finally meet you.”

“Gray Thane. Um. Hello” he said, awkwardly shaking hands.

“Sorry for, uh, objectifying your brother just then.”

“...It’s okay, it happens quite a lot actually” said Gray, with resignation.

Emmeline cleared her throat, as Alonso abruptly took a long swig of his drink. “So, Gray” she said. “You never told us why you were out here…?”

He looked around at the three of them for a long moment. “Well” he said, a small smile on his face. “I’d actually hoped to find some people to come on a mission with me...”

Emmeline sat forward in her seat, chin in her hands and several eyes opening up on her forearms. Anna and Alonso both leaned in a little closer too. “Tell us more...”

“So” said Gray. “There are these creatures. The most evil, cruel creatures you could imagine. They don’t have a name, not in my time. But on Earth, in the twenty-first century, they called them the four five six...”

* * *

Once the bartender had become thoroughly tired of him – and it actually took a lot longer than he'd expected – Jack got up, finishing off the last of his drink and looking about for Gray.

He spotted him in the corner, drinking with a group of three others in one of the booths. He gave himself a moment to just watch his brother talk, gesturing emphatically as he explained something, before coming over to the table. “Gray!” he said, as everyone looked up. “Found some friends I see… oh, hey! Is that Emmeline?”

“Jack!” she darted up in her seat, awkwardly throwing her arms around his neck across the table, the woman sitting beside Gray just saving their drinks from being knocked over.

“Long time no see!” he laughed, leaning back as they made room for him in the booth. “So, you gonna introduce me, Gray?”

“Oh. This is Anna Volokova...”

"Nice to meet you."

“Captain Jack Harkness.” He shook her hand warmly. “That a Russian accent? You’re a long way from home.”

She laughed. “Not many people recognise it out here, but yes. You’re Toshiko’s boss, is that right? From Torchwood? I met her when she was in Russia.”

Jack frowned. “Tosh was in Russia?”

“Working with KVI against the Committee, yes… she didn’t tell you?”

“...We’ll have that talk when I get back, I guess.”

“Oh...” Anna’s face fell. “Don’t give her too much trouble, okay? She saved my life.”

He nodded. Maybe he’d talk to her about it some day, but he trusted Tosh implicitly; enough to let it rest. “Fair enough” he said, turning to the man sitting beside Emmeline, opposite him. “And you are?”

“Oh. Um.” He extended a hand. “Alonso Frame. Sir.”

“Pleased to meet you, Alonso Frame.” He thought Alonso looked a little flustered as they shook hands. He gave the whole table his most blinding smile. “And Emmeline, we’ve met.”

“We have” she said, clearly delighted.

“Jack” said Gray. “What we were speaking about before...”

Jack looked at his brother’s face; he looked hopeful, fueled by idealism and determination. It was new, and it suited him, and Jack was prouder than he could possibly say. He nodded, smiling. “Yeah” he said. “I get it.”

Gray nodded. “...Might need your help getting set up with a ship of some sort, though.”

“Oh?”

“Emmeline’s got a vortex manipulator, but it’s a bit faulty. Also, I don’t think it can carry four in one go. But apparently, if we get an old ship and plug it into the console...”

He nodded. “I think I can help.”

* * *

In the end, Jack took them scavenging in the junkyard belt of the Persephone system; during the technological boom of the forty-ninth century it was at its peak, with people throwing away perfectly good ships just because they wanted an upgrade. It had been many years since he’d been there, but it didn’t take long for them to find something suitable.

“Reckon you can fix this up?” Jack asked Anna.

“...I think so” she said, turning a bright smile on him. “I’ve been learning.”

“Good” he said. “And Alonso, I heard you were a decent interplanetary pilot?”

“Uh! Not for this kind of craft, but… I have my moments.”

He nodded. “Emmeline.” He pointed at her vortex manipulator. “You know what happens if you misuse that, right?”

She frowned. “Bad stuff to do with causality?”

He snorted. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Short version: don’t mess with any fixed points, don’t cross your own timeline, don’t create paradoxes, et cetera.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “But remember there’s a lot you _can_ do, within that. A lot of ways to help.”

She nodded. “That’s the plan!”

He laughed, before turning to his brother. “Gray.”

“Jack.”

He put his hands on Gray’s shoulders, looking into his face for a moment, before pulling him into a long hug. “I am _so_ proud of you” he said into his shoulder, voice a little hoarse.

Beside him he heard Gray’s voice hitch. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

He drew back, looking into his brother’s face. “You have. And you will” he said, fierce and certain.

“I’ll be back, Jack.”

“You better be” said Jack sternly, as he began to type coordinates into his own vortex manipulator. “Home for every Christmas at _least_ , you hear? And your friends are welcome to come too.” He turned serious for a moment. “And I want you back in one piece, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jack. Stop fussing.”

“Uh, no. If you’re ever in trouble, you make sure to call, okay?” He raised his eyebrows at the ring on Gray’s finger. “I can come pick you up whenever you want.”

Gray rolled his eyes a little. “I’ll be _fine_ , Jack” he said. “I promise.”

“ _You better be_ ” he said again. He took both of Gray’s hands, kissed him on the top of his head, before drawing back and ruffling up his hair with a teary laugh. “I love you, Gray. Now, go be amazing.”

“Love you too, Jack.”

Jack gave him a nod, and a last smile, before he teleported away.

It was with a heavy heart that he materialised back in the Hub, exactly where he left. Clearly it had only been a few moments, because the others were still standing grouped loosely around him.

“Jack–” said Ianto.

Jack couldn’t help it; he stepped forward into Ianto’s space and hugged him with one arm going around the back of his neck. The other was wrapped around the acorn in his coat pocket, holding it hard enough to make an imprint on his palm. He pressed his face into Ianto’s collar to dry his incipient tears, as Ianto’s arms came up to rub his back in gentle circles. When Jack glanced over Ianto’s shoulder, he could see the others exchange looks, before all coming in to hug them both, holding them tight.

Eventually they parted. “Well” said Jack, looking up to see Myfanwy circling the ceiling above. “I guess I’m back.”

* * *

_**[4:38pm, 24 th December 2012]** _

Ianto was sitting under the tinsel and fairy lights in the tourist office, starting to think about closing the place up and heading back down to the archives, when it happened.

Well, it was more accurate to say he’d been lost in his head at the time. Sometimes, when things were as quiet as they were today – winding down for Christmas – he’d sit still and practice looking into other timelines. The loop cycle was almost at the end right now, the stopwatch hand showing only a few minutes to the hour, and his power was at its strongest.

(And he should come up with a name for it at some point, he knew. Well, he’d have plenty of time for that.)

He been sitting at the desk, back straight in his chair, letting his mind slowly slip into the calm state that helped him find his way to the in-between place. Most of the time, he couldn’t actually slip through like this. Early on in the cycle he could only see a flash of a vision here and there, if he concentrated hard and didn’t mind the nausea. But just like those first few months after Thames House – his eternally looped timeline – the visions grew more more concrete over the cycle, longer and more vivid, easier to understand. And for a few days at the cycle’s end, he could do this. It was getting easier too, with time and practice.

It felt different from the very first time, in the House of the Dead. That first time, the buffeting currents of time and the fracturing world around him had made it too hard to control. But he’d since taught himself to do it by choice, and the dizziness and pain were both better for it.

Sure enough, he found himself easing through into the cloudy world of possibilities, with every other version of himself. He’d noticed since the last loop cycle, a few more of them were missing; he supposed he understood why that was. He hadn’t told Jack or the others about it, though, and he didn’t plan to. It would only upset them.

(Of course, it had already occurred to Ianto that one day when he came this place, he might be all alone.)

He eased himself through, stepping along the rows of versions of himself. Where that first time, it had felt tearing, painful, these days it felt more like walking in a dream, or a trance. And the other worlds were becoming familiar to him, a little; he was beginning, just slightly, to be able to match them to the versions of himself they corresponded to.

He was just peering cautiously at one of the empty spaces when he felt the real world tugging on him, and suddenly he was back. Before, when the Rift had been close to opening and the world imploding into it, it had been hard to avoid slipping into this state; now, the harder challenge was staying in it. This, according to Jack, meant everything was nice and temporally stable around Ianto now, which was reassuring, but still. Ianto hoped one day he’d have better control over it.

For the moment though, Ianto blinked, clinging to the countertop briefly as his senses readjusted to his own reality. After another moment, he realised what had distracted him out of his trance, and smiled widely.

The bell had rung as the door opened, a blast of winter wind following Gray into the tourist office. His face was pink from the cold, and he had a newly-healed scar down one side of his face – over the old brand mark on his skin, warping its lines – and his hair had grown a little, but otherwise, he didn’t look significantly older than when he’d left.

But he was smiling, brighter and happier than Ianto thought he’d ever seen him. “Ianto!”

“Hello, Gray” said Ianto, getting up and letting his brother-in-law hug him.

Gray drew back. “How are you?”

“Oh, well enough. And you?”

“I came back for Christmas, like I promised. ...I did get the date right, didn’t I? I’ve only done a few Christmasses.”

Ianto nodded at the tinsel. “You did indeed.”

“Good. Oh! The others are coming too if that’s okay…? Anna’s just parking the ship… we tethered it to the water tower, it’s too big to fit in the perception filter but we managed to rig up a homemade cloaking system last month, so it _should_ be fine...”

“Well, it’s far from the weirdest thing that’s turned up in this city.” Ianto smiled. “No, don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I’ll call Jack and tell him you’re home, shall I?”

“Yeah.” Gray smiled as Ianto activated his earpiece. “That’d be nice.”

And as Jack came bursting through the hidden door, as the others came and there were hugs and exchanges of news and laughter, as the warmth steamed up the tourist office windows, Ianto thought about the other timelines he’d seen, both parallel and intertwined. And he thought, as Jack pulled him in close against his side and pressed a delighted kiss to his temple, that just for today, this was the only version of the world that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand one more chapter to go! The next one will be an (extended) epilogue, set in the future.  
> A couple of notes on this:
> 
> \- Anna Volokova appears in the Big Finish audio Zone 10, which I very much love and recommend, and reference as much as I can here while (I hope!) keeping everything nice and comprehensible to those not familiar with it. I always wanted to believe she got to have good space adventures :')
> 
> \- Anyway, Gray, Emmeline, Anna, and Alonso are my favourite space D&D party (and Jack is their favourite NPC I guess???)
> 
> \- Wait no, they're space millennial flatmates, and Jack is Gray's hot older brother with like a husband and a house and his Life Together™ that they all look up to. ~~I want an entire spinoff series/sitcom about them, can you tell~~
> 
> Anyway I really hope you enjoyed this! I have the final chapter mostly written already, so hopefully that should be here in just a few days! I can't wait for you to read it!


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little long to be called an epilogue really, but it's that kind of idea. 
> 
> Also, elements of this play off stuff from The Torchwood Archive (the Big Finish audio, not the book of the same title) but you absolutely don't need to have listened to that to understand it, like, at all. The majority is just me having fun with headcanons and worldbuilding in an attempt to make a nice conclusion to this.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

_**[The 73rd century]** _

The wastes covered almost the whole planet, mustard yellow hard-packed earth, caked and cracking, under a leaden-grey sky. The landscape was covered in gentle ripples, apparently frozen in time as the once-liquid mud had dried out solid.

There was a small hill not far off, the only visible feature from here to the flat horizon.

Or, not quite the only one. There was also a human figure, walking up the slope of the hill. A man, dressed in a bulky, charcoal-coloured radiation suit. He wore heavy gloves and a visor and breathing apparatus with two air-filters connected to tubes, spatial-compression oxygen tank at his hip. Around him hung various bandoliers and harnesses and small bags of supplies, clinking and bumping slightly as he walked, not to mention the pair of plasma blasters – the old-fashioned sort, tough and hard-wearing – holstered at his belt. In his hand was a sturdy staff of some dark material, which he was currently using as a walking stick to help him up the slope.

At the top of the hill he paused, hands on his hips as he surveyed the landscape through his mask. The visor normalised the tint of the scene, leeching out some of the yellow, but the scrolling overlay was all radiological hazard warnings, alerts from his personal bio-monitoring unit telling him to get to cover.

But Ianto Jones wasn’t looking at them. After all, he knew well enough how dangerous this place was, which was why he needed to hurry.

Instead, behind the visor his eyes – superficially young, but much older than they looked – flicked from side to side, looking out over the waste land from his vantage point. He glanced down, checking a reading from the device strapped to his wrist, above the vortex manipulator. Nodding to himself, he raised his head again, eyes going unfocused for a moment, a small frown appearing on his forehead beneath the mask. Then a moment later his vision cleared, as he confirmed what he had hoped.

With a smile behind his breathing mouthpiece, he held up the staff, striking the bottom end of it on the ground and pressing a small, concealed button at the same moment. The top sprung open as he did, a shovel head unfolding from spatial compression.

Ianto spun it around, dug the point of the shovel into the packed mud, and began to dig.

By the time his shovel hit solid metal a foot and a half down, an hour had passed and Ianto was exhausted. But the sound made a smile break across his face, momentarily forgetting the uncomfortable suit, the increasing warnings flashing across his field of view, even the tightness in his chest that felt as though his lungs were constricting.

He could have done this later on in the cycle, he thought. When his lungs were better, and the Moresight stronger. He probably _should_ have. But once he’d got the location, he couldn’t bring himself to wait.

He couldn’t leave Jack suffering for even a minute longer than he had to, let alone several more _months_.

But either way, this place wasn’t kind to human physiology, with its mud rich with grey and yellow uranium ores. The dry season lasted ninety percent of the planet’s year, followed by the annual flash-flood that turned the hard-packed silt to a radioactive quicksand slurry in minutes before it hardened again. Even the air was too heavy on the carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide, too little oxygen to breathe comfortably without a respirator, without even taking into account the fine mist of radioactive dust coming off the muddy ground with his footsteps. And these radiation suits weren’t designed for more than a quick spacewalk, Ianto knew; sure enough, he could feel the itch and burn of it against his skin more or less constantly by now.

As well as that, the suit was awfully heavy and hot, making his every motion clumsy and sapping his strength. Halfway through digging Ianto found himself blacking out, spots dancing before his eyes, and he had to sit on the edge of the hole he’d dug for a while trying to collect himself. He wondered if it would make it better to just let himself die and come back again; this would be the second time this trip, which was sure to play havoc with Claudia. A moment later, he realised his body probably wouldn’t give him much choice in the matter, as he felt his organs and brain begin to shut down, whether from heatstroke or radiation poisoning or simply the strain on his body.

The last thing he was aware of was the clatter of the shovel against metal as his grip slipped and he collapsed sideways, dirt coming up to fill his field of vision before he blacked out entirely.

Then there was nothing for a while.

He gasped back to life lying half-slumped in the hole, chest aching with Claudia’s distress as he coughed painfully, trying to control his breathing.

He _definitely_ should’ve waited until later in the cycle. At this rate he’d be here for ages anyway.

Poor Claudia, Ianto thought. He’d have to hard-reset them when he got home, which he always felt a little bad about; it made them so confused after. But it would be worth it, and worth the temporary worsening of his breathing, and worth all the pain, if Jack didn’t have to suffer anymore.

That thought rallied him, making him push himself up to his feet and lean on the shovel for a moment before continuing to dig. He’d managed to uncover a good amount of gently-curved metal now; it was the hull, he saw as he uncovered a capital letter _M_ , the paintwork pitted and sandblasted. He’d need to redo that, once she’d been through the radiation scrubber back on the Archive.

But now he knew the ship must have been buried on its side, closer to upside-down than right-way up. That was something at least. That would make it easier to access the door, but he still needed to clear a lot more dirt to get to it. At least he knew what direction to dig in now.

A few more hours – and one more death – later, he’d managed to dig a few feet sideways, dumping the loose-packed yellow soil outside the long hole in the ground. From above he thought it would probably look a little like a grave. Which was at least fitting, Ianto thought with a grim smile to himself.

Still, he’d exposed enough of the hull to see the name. He brushed a gloved hand over the familiar letters, smiling slightly as he read:

**_MYFANWY II_ **

But more to the point, he’d managed to dig far enough to the side to expose the port side door. He made sure all the dust he’d cleared was far enough away that it wouldn’t fall through – the last thing he needed was to be tracking lots of radioactive mud inside – and then held his vortex manipulator against the access panel. After a moment there was a soft chime, and the door swung open for him.

Ianto paused to brush himself down a little – well, maybe some radioactive mud was inevitable, and he’d be putting her through the scrubber anyway he supposed – before climbing through the doorway and lowering himself down into the ship.

Inside, everything was dark except for the few blinking mauve lights of the control panel in emergency low-power mode. Everything was on its side too, but Ianto knew the ship well enough to pick his way through to the pilot’s seat – empty, he realised, frowning – and tap in the commands to power up again.

To his relief, the lights came on and the controls flared back to life with a bright electronic tone. But as they did he realised that the radiation shields were down. Primary and secondary; how had that happened? Well, at least he’d be alright to fly them out of the atmosphere, probably. Once he’d dug the ship out of the dirt a little more.

Assuming Jack was actually in here, that was. Ianto frowned. The ship wasn’t very big – just large enough for the two of them, perhaps a few passengers and some stuff in the rather cramped hold. But there was no sign of Jack, except–

 _Oh_. Ianto had noticed that the access panel on the right was swinging open, leading to the crawlspace around the engine housing.

He climbed along the wall – the ship was still at the wrong angle, though everything was built microgravity-compatible so it didn’t matter too much – and scrambled through the hatch, clumsy in his suit.

The light revealed Jack lying curled up on his side by the engine, one arm crushed and half his chest caved in by a piece of the wall that had buckled in the impact. Ianto could tell he was dead without checking a pulse, radiation burns covering his skin. He was pinned down on the left hand side, right where his heart was. And – more importantly for getting out – the arm with his vortex manipulator.

No wonder it had been so long, then.

Ianto sighed, beginning to gather up the tools Jack had dropped to put away, before abandoning the task and cradling Jack in his arms. He wanted to touch him, to hold him before anything else, before he tried to think of the logistics of this. Eventually, he activated his own vortex manipulator and teleported them into the main space to strap Jack into the copilot’s seat. At least if he came back like that, Ianto thought, he wouldn’t hit his head on the wall. But with the amount of times Jack must have died out here, from suffocation – the breathable atmosphere in here had run out long ago – or from radiation poisoning, or from his crushed chest cavity that was unable to properly heal, Ianto didn’t think he’d be back for a good while. Though that, perhaps, was a mercy, Ianto thought as he did up the belts, some part of him making a mental list of things that needed fixing. Better for Jack to come back somewhere safe and comfortable.

And in the meantime, Ianto was here to look after him.

* * *

Jack flinched back to life with a gasp. As soon as he took in air, he braced for the pain in his chest again, but it didn’t come; when it didn’t, he realised he wasn’t where he thought he was. Moreover, he was lying on his back on something soft, and the air smelled clean and familiar, _and surely this was_ –

He pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking in the soft, low light of his and Ianto’s bedroom aboard the Archive. Jack had no memory of how he’d got here, but as soon as he realised where he was he guessed what had happened and felt a smile spread across his face.

He knew Ianto would come to find him, even buried under solidified mudflows on a radioactive planet in a powered-down ship. Ianto was good like that. It was a certainty he’d clung to through all that time trapped down there – in his brief moments of lucidity before dying again – as he had many, many times before, and Ianto had never given him reason to doubt it.

Thinking of that made him glance over to the other side of their bed, and then the comfortable chair beside it; where _was_ Ianto, come to think of it? Not here, anyway. Jack looked around the room and then down at himself, taking in the fact that he was dressed in a soft, loose sleep shirt and trousers underneath the sheets. He wrinkled his nose at the faint residual smell of decontaminant clinging to his skin; Ianto must have put his dead body through the radiation scrubber, dressed him and put him to bed afterwards. The thought was very endearing. Turning his head a little further, Jack smiled as he saw a mug of coffee standing on the bedside table on a timelocked coaster, the steam curling above it frozen in time. Waiting for him, whenever he came back.

He pressed the button to deactivate the bubble, and the steam began to move again. He reached over and took a sip of coffee; hot and perfect, as though it had been made just minutes ago.

Which of course it had, at least as far as the coffee knew. The coasters were an antiquated technology, almost quaint these days. But these had sentimental value. The set had been a present from Tosh for Jack and Ianto’s thirtieth wedding anniversary, after all. It hadn’t been long after their wedding that Tosh had worked out that it took much less power to stop time inside a small bubble than outside it, and only took a few tweaks to her tech to get it working. Once she’d solved the problem of activating the lock from outside, then she’d been able to build a whole fleet of various time-freezing devices, which they’d got a lot of use out of.

Including keeping coffee hot and fresh. Jack grinned, tapping his ring against the ceramic mug and remembering how pleased Ianto had been with the gift at the time as he sipped.

At the same time he let his eye run over the other objects on the table; his vortex manipulator for one, which he strapped onto his wrist again, feeling a little more like himself as he did so. There was also an ancient acorn, its husk worn to a smooth polish with time. Too fragile now to keep in his coat pocket under the constant touch of his hands; keeping it on the bedside table was a compromise.

Jack let himself touch it with just the tip of his finger, smile growing a little.

Still smiling, he set the coffee down and went to get changed.

Once dressed, he picked up the coffee again and sipped as he padded out into the hallway. Having thought about it while choosing clothes, he had a good guess for where Ianto might be. He turned the corner and headed to the medical wing.

As he walked he heard a delighted barking, and was given only a moment’s warning – to hold his coffee cup out the way – before a large, joyous shape came hurtling towards him.

Jack grinned, setting down the cup in an alcove. “Untitled!” he laughed, rubbing her secondary ears as she put her paws on his chest, prehensile tail wagging furiously. “Hey, buddy!”

Untitled barked – or rather, a sound that vaguely approximated a bark, with an undertone of whispering, electronic dissonance – and bumped her head against Jack’s chest, telepathically projecting an overwhelming, formless sense of puppyish joy directly into his neural pathways. “Aw, I missed you too” said Jack, receiving a lick to the side of the cheek from a rough tongue that lolled from segmented jaws. “C’mon, let’s go find Ianto, huh?”

In answer she barked again, jumping up and bounding off down the corridor with purpose; _this way_ , sprang telepathically into his mind.

Jack laughed, breaking into a fast walk to keep up, while trying not to spill his coffee.

The thing about Untitled was, they weren’t sure exactly _what_ she was. Jack tended to think of her as a dog – specifically, something resembling a wolfhound with the temperament of a labrador – but she wasn’t really. Rather, a dog was what the human brain most easily parsed her as. Or, as Ianto had put it when they found her in the smoking ruins of an experimental bioenhancement facility as a tiny puppy, she was ... _A Dog_ … _?_ And personally Jack found that the most useful designation.

Besides, it wasn’t as though either of them were any more explicable themselves. So she fit right in, Jack thought.

That had been more than six centuries ago now; neither he nor Ianto were sure how long Untitled’s lifespan would be. She had shown some signs of ageing – she was only a puppy in spirit these days, with the very beginnings of grey around her vertically split muzzle – but Jack was comforted in the knowledge that they’d have a good few centuries more with her around.

Shaking the reminiscence away, he turned the corner to find Untitled bumping her nose against the door to the medical wing, which meant his hunch about Ianto’s location had been correct.

Sure enough, he pushed open the door to see Ianto there, sitting in a reclining chair with his eyes shut serenely. His hands were curled over the arm rests, an oxygen mask over his face as he breathed slow and even. Immediately, Untitled sat down by the table on her haunches, suddenly the picture of patient obedience.

But Jack wasn’t looking at her. On the table beside Ianto was a clear tank about the size and shape of a twenty-first century tupperware lunchbox. In fact, it looked very much like a tupperware lunchbox, if not for the electronic device set into the lid.

That, and the contents; a glowing swarm of golden specks, buzzing and rippling inside the box as the light on the electronic device flashed blue.

Jack frowned slightly. The rescue must have been tough on Ianto, if he’d had to hard-reset Claudia, and give himself his oxygen treatment. It meant that Ianto had died at least once trying to save him, at the very worst time of the loop cycle for it.

Jack sighed inwardly, as he watched the golden flutter of Claudia in their reset tank. Managing Ianto’s lung condition had become far, far easier since he’d got the cloud of specialised, adaptive nanogenes that lived permanently in his lungs, tuned to Ianto’s genetic signature and physiology, easing his breathing as needed. It was certainly easier than the trachael implants Ianto had used between the twenty-ninth and fiftieth centuries. Meant to replace the antiquated inhaler, they worked very well for most humans, delivering puffs of medication straight into the lungs, and were simple and non-invasive to put in with the advent of medical microteleports in the 2800s.

But because of the loop cycle and Ianto’s unique – well, almost unique – healing abilities, his body tended to eject them and he’d had to get them changed far more often than their standard lifetime of about an earth decade: around every few months, which had been a pain when they were traveling, especially in less reputable parts.

The nanogene cloud was a big improvement. But over the centuries since Ianto had acquired them, their algorithm had gained a certain amount of collective sentience, and somewhere along the way had become known as Claudia. These days, they felt like almost a member of the family.

The only drawback with Claudia was when Ianto died. They tended to get awfully perturbed by the death of their beloved host, sometimes necessitating a reset like this, especially if Ianto had been dead for a long while. Or multiple times in quick succession. After a reset, Claudia had to go through the process of restoring their settings from their backup aboard the Archive to avoid having to relearn Ianto’s biology from scratch, which was what was going on in the tank now. But Ianto always said there was an adjustment period after, before they were fully back to equilibrium again.

Jack frowned, watching Ianto breathe, chest rising and falling. What must Ianto have put himself through for Jack’s sake?

It was at this moment that Ianto’s eyelids cracked open, a small smile appearing on his face. Even with the oxygen mask, Jack could read that smile easily enough; it meant, _I’m not actually asleep you know_ , and _I know you’re standing there worrying about me_ , and _please don’t though._ Mostly, it meant _I missed you_ , and _welcome home_.

Jack grinned, putting his coffee cup down and coming over, kissing Ianto on the forehead. Ianto held up a hand; _wait_. Then he curled his thumb down, then his fingers; _one, two, three, four_.

As soon as Ianto’s little finger was down, the machine beside him beeped softly, signalling the end of the oxygen treatment. Ianto removed the mask and shook his head, rubbing away the red marks before picking up Claudia’s box from the table; the reset was done. As soon as Ianto took the lid off they swirled out, a shimmering golden cloud that seemed to greet Ianto affectionately, gathering about him and nuzzling his cheeks. “Sorry, Claudia” he said. “I know you don’t like when I do that.”

Claudia drifted softly up against his nose and circled around his shoulders, as if accepting the apology.

Ianto smiled as Claudia nudged at his lips. “Yeah, I know. I missed you too.”

Then he took a deep, long breath in, inhaling the nanogene cloud which flew in through his mouth and nose. For a moment he made an array of strange faces, as though he was just about to sneeze, before he relaxed again, breathing out carefully; Claudia stayed inside his lungs.

Ianto sighed with relief, rolling his shoulders as Untitled came up and pushed her wet nose against his thigh. He rubbed her ears the way she liked, looking up at Jack. “I put the ship through the scrubber and parked her in docking port C, waiting for repairs. There’s the hull breach of course, and she’s dented to hell... but the back plasma thruster also needs retuning, she could do with an oil change, and there’s still something funny with the nav systems that I haven’t figured out yet even though I got them back online.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Also, something’s buggered up both the primary _and_ secondary radiation shields.”

“Is it fixable?”

“Oh, it’s definitely _fixable_ , but I’ll need to take the pod out to Hanlon’s on the Vermillion Ring for the parts – too much to carry back by teleport – and I wanted to get Claudia settled again before making the trip.” Ianto arched an eyebrow at him. “I assume you got hit?”

Jack sighed, coming over to stand in front of Ianto; this wasn’t really about the ship, he guessed. “Laser canon in the upper atmosphere, yeah.”

“ _Jack_.”

“I know, I _know_ I said I wouldn’t take her into dogfights after last time, but I nearly _had_ those guys, Ianto! They decided to cut and run after I caught them back on Sharah’s Moon. I wasn’t to know they’d turn back on me over Genraia-five and just start _firing–_ ”

“They were traffickers, Jack. Not best known for playing by the rules.” Untitled was standing behind Ianto, looking for all the world as though she agreed with him.

Jack sighed. “I couldn’t know they’d shoot me down over a radioactive hell world during the two weeks the whole surface turns to quicksand. You gotta give me that at least.”

Ianto rolled his eyes, his smile returning, if a little more exasperated. “Okay, yes, I’ll give you that.” He raked a hand through his hair, distracted. “Sorry. I’ve just had a fairly shit eight months with you gone.”

Jack winced. “As long as that? I thought more like two.” In reality, he’d died so many times, without much lucidity in between, that he wasn’t surprised his estimation of time was way off.

“Eight months, three days, to be precise.”

“Sorry.”

Ianto stepped forward at last, draping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck, and kissed him. “'S'okay. I just missed you.”

Jack hummed into it, relishing the feeling of Ianto’s lips on his before drawing back. He smiled, letting his eyes roam over his husband; Ianto looked mostly the same as when Jack had seen him last, but for the fact that the collar of his shirt was undone and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his only concession to informality. Jack let himself admire the little skin it bared, breathing in the familiar smell of him as he held Ianto close; he’d really missed this. “How d’you find me, anyway? If the ship’s navs went down...”

Ianto’s mouth quirked into a smile. “It wasn’t like you going down over Genraia-five was subtle, Jack. Once I’d tracked the ship’s trajectory to that planet the trail stopped, so I just turned up to the orbiting bar where the pitchblende miners go, bought a few drinks, and they were happy to chat about the one thing they’d seen in fifteen rotations that wasn’t radioactive mud.” He shrugged. “Once I’d teleported down to the planet’s surface, I had to wander around for a while to find the right spot, but…” he gestured vaguely at his temple. “Easy enough. When you’re me, at least.”

“Oh. Moresight?”

(“ _No, it’s not_ fore _sight” Ianto had explained once_ _to Gwen_ _early on, after he’d used the visions to avert some crisis_ _or other_ _. Ianto's brow had crinkled up the way it did when he was trying to work out how to put something into words. “I don’t see the future. Just sort of… the present, but... more_ _of it.” His eyes widened, pleased with himself. “...Oh!_ More _sight!_ ” _And they’d never called it anything else after._ )

Ianto nodded. “In a relatively close timeline the place where you were buried was crawling with scavengers.” He held up his wrist and opened up the flap to the second strap there, above his vortex manipulator. On pressing a few buttons a holographic display burst out, all glowing-blue overlaid pages of scrolling text. Ianto raised his hand and paged through a few of them, sweeping several more aside before pointing. “There, see? Timeline prime minus seventeen, B-iteration, three left branches. I’ve added what I saw to my records for future tracking.”

Jack blinked; though he grasped the basic principles of Ianto’s complicated, homemade organisational system for tracking myriad branching timelines, the details rather eluded him. “Wait, you used the Moresight?” he said. “But… if it’s been eight months–”

“And three days.”

“–Then that must make it the first quarter, right? It must’ve been _hard_.”

Ianto sighed. “...I won’t lie, it wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

He grimaced, as Jack reached forward to Ianto's front waistcoat pocket and took out the watch on its chain, clicking it open. Sure enough, the hand was in the first quarter; that meant Ianto’s breathing would have been particularly bad without Claudia to soothe his lungs, and his ability to see other timelines weak and effortful. Jack was well aware how much the Moresight drained Ianto’s strength early on in the loop cycle. “Oh, Ianto” he said, putting the watch back in Ianto’s pocket. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine” said Ianto.

“You could’ve waited another few months.”

“I _know_ ” said Ianto, shrugging.

“Let me guess. You missed me?”

“Don’t go letting it go to your head.”

“And also you wish I wouldn’t put myself through so much pain.”

Ianto laughed, a little sadly. “Two for two.”

“Well, I could say the same thing about you, you know.”

“Look, I just wanted you back, okay?”

“Well, you got me.” Jack pulled him into his arms for a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Ianto took his hand, patting the back of it. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been trudging through a radioactive wasteland all day, and I’m bloody starving. Dinner?”

“Always.”

It was only once they’d eaten a proper meal – and Jack had to admit, it was wonderful to have real food again after so long – that Ianto finally took him to bed. They spent a few hours blissfully relearning each other’s familiar bodies, reminding each other what life and sensation felt like; it was fast and hungry at first, then afterwards slow and achingly tender. Jack would have gladly stayed up longer, but Ianto was clearly still exhausted after the rescue. In the afterglow it didn’t take him long to fall into a deep slumber, held in the circle of Jack’s arms.

Here was the thing about their lives these days, Jack thought: where once his own life had seemed like an infinite line stretching out into forever, nowadays he’d got more used to things going in cycles. At first there was the obvious: Ianto’s perpetually looped timeline and the way his ability to slip into other versions of reality ebbed and flowed with it, which Jack had got into the habit of keeping tabs on too. But as well as that, the Torchwood Archive’s orbit was a stretched-out ellipse, roaming far from its star at times, skimming right through its habitable zone at periapsis.

Today, according to the clock on the wall, they were almost at this point, close enough that the star should blaze bright through the windows of their habitation quarters set into the Archive’s outer hull for the view. But because of the way the whole thing spun on its axis, the window wasn’t filled with the blinding light of the close star right now, but rather a soft landscape of stars, the outer planets and their moons of this system. The galactic arm beyond, a wide, soft-focus arc of shimmering points of light in the black. Because of their speed and the way they gracefully tumbled along their orbit, the “night time” was much longer than it had been on Earth back then, as were the “days”: darkness and light lasted about twenty-one hours each, with almost no twilight in between.

But now, it wouldn’t get light for a good while. And so Jack left the shades undrawn and watched by soft galaxy-light as the man he’d loved for the greater part of his long life slept on his chest, his fingers gently running through Ianto’s hair until he dropped off to sleep himself.

* * *

It was still dark except for the diffuse galactic glow when Ianto woke to an empty bed. For a moment, it felt familiar from these last months, and after that he had a moment of panic as he remembered that he’d rescued Jack yesterday: _where was he?_ Then, as a little more waking rationality came back, he realised Jack had probably just got up before him: it was one of the peculiarities of their somewhat different versions of immortality that Jack needed a lot less sleep than your average twenty-first century human, yet Ianto still got about as tired as he ever had. He suspected it was something to do with the Moresight, because he was always especially drained after looking into other timelines. That, and maybe Jack’s fifty-first century physiology as compared to his twenty-first.

Whatever the reason, he wasn't used to sleeping quite _this_ long. Ianto blinked in surprise as he realised he’d slept for just over thirteen hours, which was almost unheard of. A moment later he found a note sitting on the table beside him, which confirmed his theory about Jack.  
  
  


_Taken the pod to Hanlon’s to get the spare parts for the ship. I’ll get the rest of your shopping list too._   
_– Jack._   
_P.S. Made you breakfast. Thank me later :)_

Relaxed again, Ianto let himself lie still for just a little longer before getting up and wandering to the kitchen. Sure enough, Jack had made him breakfast, his plate waiting for him on a time-locked plate holder, keeping hot. There was a small stack of the tiny, flaky moon-peach pastries Ianto liked, as well as two fried vexel eggs, safrana buttered toast and a bowl of stewed purple rock plums, the last jar from that teleport trip to the market on Merisk all that time ago.

Ianto smiled, faintly; Jack had gone to a lot of effort, presumably thinking it was the least he could do after Ianto’s efforts to save him yesterday. The only thing Jack hadn’t made was coffee, which was only because he knew Ianto preferred to do it himself. He set about the familiar routine, mostly unchanged for millennia; some things, he’d perfected early on.

After breakfast, and once he’d fed Untitled – they'd never really figured out what was best to give her to eat, but she seemed to eagerly consume absolutely everything from the finest smoked star squid pâté to iron filings off the floor of the workshop, with no ill effects – he left for the main level of the Archive.

Looking after the Torchwood Archive was his longest ongoing project, and Ianto was very, very proud of it. A medium sized asteroid in a highly elliptical orbit around a young star, it was filled with a labyrinth of tunnels and storage rooms and banks of memory discs, holding every physical record, object and scrap of digital data that Torchwood had ever owned that hadn’t been lost to time. As well as many that had, which Ianto had painstakingly recovered, sometimes with Jack’s help and sometimes without. It had taken him most of the millennia that had passed to get it up and running, but the Archive, and the Index where everything in it was meticulously, lovingly categorised, was his greatest work. History might tell more of Ianto Jones for his field missions with Jack and others over the years – usually putting his power to see other timelines into practice to help someone, if he could – but in his heart, Ianto primarily thought of himself as an archivist.

(Not that he wasn’t handy with a spatial compression multiweapon or a blaster in a pinch; he'd saved Jack many times that way, from people who would have caused him pain. He’d even saved the galaxy a few times. But in terms of ongoing projects, Ianto was rather proud of his indexing system; it had taken a lot more work, after all.)

He walked down the wood-paneled staircase, hand running down the sinuous curve of the banister. The whole of the Archive – much like Torchwood itself had always been – was a rather esoteric mixture of the modern and the ancient; specifically, the Victorian. Ianto walked down the richly-carpeted stairs, taking the left branch out of habit where it divided into two in an elegant stairwell. As he walked down, he turned to look at the sleek silvery sculpture that stood between the two stairways; the stylised form of a woman, all curved lines and movement, standing proud and defiant and graceful in front of a solid metal tower, engraved with many, many names. Ianto gave a faint, sad smile when he saw it, and the little silver plaque in front of it whose inscription Ianto knew by heart. The Canary Wharf memorial had been his idea after all, and he and Jack had commissioned it soon after they’d moved to the Archive permanently.

Once down the stairs, Ianto made his way to his office, sat down at his desk and opened up his interface with Mainframe. He pulled up the alert feed, intending to catch up on the backlog he’d missed while looking for Jack. As he did, Untitled nosed open the door and padded in after him, curling up on the thick-pile rug beside his desk for a nap.

Ianto’s office was a comfortable, well-appointed room, with a wide window behind his desk looking out into space. It adjoined to the main reading-room of the library so that he could be there with visitors faster. Not that many people came to visit these days, but it was always good to be prepared. Especially since not all of them meant well.

But in here, no visitors were allowed; it was just for family, which currently meant himself and Jack and Untitled.

Not that that was always true. On the wall beside Ianto’s desk were rows of filing cabinets, and pinned to some of them were old, childish drawings. The ones whose paper was too delicate and ancient, too fragile, were filed carefully away. Sometimes he would take them out and look at them though. He’d been doing that a lot, while Jack was gone.

He and Jack didn’t currently have any living children or grandchildren. There’d been a good many over the years – only some human, many adopted when they’d found a child who needed a home along their travels, a few they’d had biologically too. Of course, there might well be more again one day; that was another thing that tended to go in cycles, when the want of a larger family overtook their grief at losing them, or vice-versa.

Ianto had a good memory, was the thing, and he remembered every single one of their children so, so clearly. Their twins Catrin and Gethin sitting right here in this room with crayons in their chubby fists, on the carpet where Untitled was sleeping now. Soft-spoken, dreamy Kessel with his pearlescent blue skin and the way he could hear the flow of the universe. Terra who’d been so excited to name herself in honour of her fathers’ old home planet when she’d transitioned, because of her love for old-Earth history she’d inherited from Ianto; she’d made researching it her life’s work. Zeth, grinning and laughing and showboating, always bringing his dates home and the way Jack always loved to play at embarrassing him in front of them. How worried they’d been when at two years old, Morgan had fallen down the stairs and cut their chin so badly, how Ianto had stroked their hair and pressed kisses to their child-round cheeks to calm them, drying their tears as Jack had washed away the blood and dressed the wound. Fiery, ever-restless Janie, and how much it had hurt when she’d been seventeen and had run out on them, screaming that she hated this family – for their strangeness and the fact that they’d never get any older, how Ianto's visions of other timelines made it impossible to live fully in this one – taking the pod and flying away. She’d come back only a few months later, but even when she’d buried her face in Jack’s shoulder and sobbed, beating her fists half-heartedly against his chest while telling them both how sorry she was... even that hadn’t made it ache much less. After all, in technicalities at least, she was right about everything. And more besides.

(There had been others, so many others. The only thing they’d agreed on right from the start was that for those children they’d picked names for themselves, they wouldn’t name them after dead friends; Jack had said the pain would only stack up on itself higher and higher, and after not too many generations, Ianto had come to understand just how true that was.)

In the present, Ianto read in silence for a few more minutes. There wasn’t as much to get through as he'd expected; a few small chunks of space debris deflected from the asteroid’s surface showing up as blips on the impact monitor; some odd temperature fluctuations in the habitation wing, which Ianto was pretty sure had been him burning the toast out of distraction when he’d finally – _finally_ – got his first clue to Jack’s location.

Satisfied with this, he closed the feed and began to work on the incident reports he’d put off finishing until after he’d brought Jack home. Not that it took long; there had been one more attempted incursion to the Archive while Jack had been away, but Ianto had seen so many similar attempts over the millennia that he had a well-used template for the report format, only differing in the details.

It was as he was finishing off the incident report and submitting it to Mainframe for posterity, that a new notification popped up on the alert feed. This one made a slight frown appear on Ianto’s face as he opened it and read.

He sighed and shook his head, knowing Jack would have seen it too, mentally preparing himself to discuss it when Jack got home.

Then he closed the feed and returned to work.

He’d only been at it about half an hour more when he got the pod docking alert; Jack was back from his shopping trip. Not long after, Ianto heard his office door open, taking a moment before raising his eyes to meet Jack’s.

“Morning” said Ianto. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Yeah, well. You did dig me out of radioactive sludge yesterday.”

“Pretty sure that was explicitly stated in our marriage vows” said Ianto with a shrug. “To have and to hold, and to dig out of radioactive sludge. Et cetera.”

Jack chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

Ianto sighed. Well, better to get the conversation over with, until next time at least. “Jack” he said, pulling up the holographic display and magnifying the note he’d been looking at earlier. “Did you see...”

“Yep” said Jack, perching on the edge of the desk beside him, serious again. He looked stoic, as though he was bracing for pain but trying to keep his face carefully neutral. Ianto recognised the expression from long experience. “So? What d’you think?”

“Spatio-temporal rift, just formed at Ventrah-pi-eight, second quadrant” Ianto read. “Oh, that’s right through the middle of S’Orel City.” He winced. “Ouch.”

“Sounds familiar” said Jack, but the amusement in his voice rang hollow. He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

Ianto sighed. They’d long played this game: ever since the Doctor had told them that Ianto could potentially undo what had happened to him by finding another Rift, by opening it and reversing the process, they’d been monitoring the appearance of any such disturbances through a network of contacts and equipment scattered across vast swathes of the surrounding systems. They weren’t exactly common: this was only the eighth time a possible Rift had emerged, in all the centuries of their lives.

But sometimes it did happen. And whenever one emerged, Jack always asked him the same question: _well?_ Did he want to do it? Did Ianto want to try to give up his immortality, give up the Moresight and the breathing problems and start ageing normally again, leave behind the odd, cyclical life he’d had for all this time?

The answer, so far, had always been no. And always would be, as far as Ianto was concerned. But what mattered to Jack was the choice itself, Ianto knew; this was Jack’s way of giving him a gift, the power over his own fate that Jack himself had been denied. Jack had even researched how to do it properly this time, had devoted years to it, just to give Ianto that choice in the safest, easiest way possible if he ever decided he wanted it.

Ianto understood all this; he knew it came from a place of love, and from the deep hurt that Jack still carried that nothing had managed to fully soothe away. But Ianto still disliked actually having the conversation; the tension it brought to Jack’s shoulders, the deep fear of losing him that Jack tried so desperately hard to disguise. Also, it made Ianto think about Jack alone, and he hated seeing that in any timeline, let alone contemplating it in this one.

Ianto sighed, laying a hand on Jack’s knee where he perched tensely on the edge of the desk. “No, Jack,” he said firmly, as he always did. “Thank you, but not this time.”

The relaxation of Jack’s muscles was palpable; Ianto didn’t think, after all this time, Jack actually expected him to say yes. But perhaps some part of him braced for it, as Jack so often seemed to brace for more pain. Jack had never, ever taken their life as it was now for granted, Ianto knew.

“Anyway, I’ve got too much to do” Ianto said with a wry smile; the moment of tension was passing. “Got to fix the ship’s engine, and I _bet_ you forgot the spare tungsten divertor tiles.”

“Oh, _no!_ ” gasped Jack, before grinning. “Nah, I got ‘em. They were on your list, weren’t they?”

“That they were” said Ianto, with a pleased smile. He closed down the screen, looking Jack in the eye carefully; the hard part had passed, but Jack needed to be treated gently in moments like this, reassured against something he always tried to pretend he didn’t fear. Ianto took both his hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “Also, someone’s got to keep this place going” he said. “Did you know, there was yet _another_ attempt to blow it up while you were away? It was easy to see them off, but still. Report’s already in the system, if you want to look.”

Jack nodded. “Did these ones also assume you were a hologram?”

“They did, as a matter of fact. Tragic mistake.”

“...Why does everyone _do_ that?”

“To be fair, in most timelines...”

Jack almost flinched. “Yeah.”

“But anyway” said Ianto brightly. “I’m still not a hologram, you’ll be pleased to hear.”

Jack regained a little of his customary leer. “I don’t think last night would’ve been nearly so much fun if you were.”

“Certainly not for me.”

Jack laughed, and Ianto judged that the fear that had settled over him a moment before seemed to have passed. The way his expression changed as he looked at the wall beside Ianto was mischievous, sparkling.

And before he could do anything else, Jack had darted to Ianto’s console, pulling up the music player which Ianto had left open and untouched since before he’d left to rescue Jack. Ianto watched as Jack opened up Ianto’s holographic interface – his was set to look like the well-loved nineties Sony walkman that Ianto had had as a teenager, while the one by Jack’s desk in the adjoining room looked like an early twentieth century phonograph outlined in glowing blue – and pressed play on the last song.

Ianto sighed, sitting back in his chair as the final notes of Ella Fitzgerald singing _Love Is Here To Stay_ crackled through the room, as it had when Ianto had been here alone before the rescue.

Jack rewound the song, starting it again from the beginning,

“ _It's very clear, our love is here to stay… not for a year, but ever and a day…_ _the radio, and the telephone, and the movies that we know, m_ _ay_ _just be passing fancies, and in time may go_...”

Jack smiled sidelong at him. “Last dance at our wedding, huh? Guess you really did miss me.”

Ianto couldn’t quite help the blush that crept up his neck, though he rolled his eyes. “I had my moments.”

“You old sentimentalist.”

Ianto scoffed. “You’re one to talk.” But he let Jack pull him up to his feet by the hand behind his desk, drawing him close with an arm looped about the back of his neck as the music drifted around them, dancing slowly to it.

“ _But oh my dear, our love is here to stay…_ _t_ _ogether we're going a long, long way_...”

Together they stared out of the window behind Ianto’s desk; they could see the beginnings of the stellar corona, though the star’s disc was still out of view.

“Nearly sun-up” said Jack. “I’ll draw the shade...” he made to go to the control on the desk that darkened the glass, but Ianto stopped him with a hand on Jack’s wrist.

“No” he said. “I want to see.” The glass was already shielded – mostly for their children’s sake, over the years – keeping out the harmful radiation; if they left the glass clear, it would merely be very bright, and it would hurt to look at directly, but it wouldn’t cause them any harm.

(Not that either of them would be permanently harmed even if they were to stare into the heart of the star with nothing between them and its radiation burning their skin in open space. But it would hurt, and neither of them did things like that these days unless there was a good reason. Behind a thick layer of shielded glass though; that was alright.)

Jack smiled, as the diffuse coronal glow before the star emerged illuminated his face from below and to the side. “Okay” he said, as it finally crested into view, a blazing fingernail sliver growing into a wider arc, lighting the room. “But look away in three… two… one…”

As the sun rose, Ianto put his hand on Jack’s cheek and turned his face away from the window and towards him instead, closing his eyes as he kissed him. His eyelids blazed with it from the inside, filling up his field of view with a vital blood-red glow.

The warmth of yet another star-rise enveloped them both as they kissed in silhouette, eyes closed against the brilliance as the room filled with dazzling, blinding light.

_**[The End.]** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Claudia's full name is Claudia McLeod, pronounced, of course, "Cloudia McCloud", because they are a cloud, and because that's the kind of nonsense I find funny and I think Ianto would find funny.)
> 
> Anyway, that's the end! It's been amazing, and may I take this opportunity to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story; it's been a long and wonderful road for me, and your comments have kept me writing, have kept me invested, have brought me so, so much joy, especially in these scary times. Thank you so much! 
> 
> ....And if you're craving more of this, please rest assured that though this is the end of the main plot, this AU is far from "over"...there are plenty of side-stories I'd like to write now that this is officially a series (in fact I've already got another one planned). So look out for those! And if you have a specific idea for a shorter piece set in this verse, please let me know in the comments; no promises, but if it catches my interest I might just write it!! As well as that, if you have any questions about this AU and any of my worldbuilding, I have quite a lot of lore I came up with that didn't quite make it in, but I'd love to talk about it if you like! The best place to message me about that is probably tumblr, @[ultraviolet-eucatastrophe](ultraviolet-eucatastrophe.tumblr.com) (where I can ramble more easily and freely). Or you can just come and talk to me about Torchwood or writing or anything else in general!
> 
> That aside, thank you again... I love you all <3


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